Things That We Are Not
by TigerLilly1995
Summary: What makes a person who they are? Is it the mistakes of our past, drenched in the blood of others? Or the sacrifices of those closest to us? What is the defining factor of our strength, our weakness, our belief? Cassandra Queen is about to learn the hard way what it really takes to be a part of something bigger than just herself. But is she ready to pay the price of this freedom?
1. Untimely

_**Opening note**__: This idea was born in the dead of a stormy night, out on the tenth floor of a particularity comfortable apartment. It was a historical moment… ok; you know what, never mind. I'll just introduce you like a normal person. The idea for this fanfiction was born while I was reading a wonderful transformers story called Twisted – go check it out, it's fantastic! – and I didn't contemplate much before starting to write because I was just itching to get the idea out of the way, since even though I only bounced the idea around for like a day, I was eager to share it with the world. I can easily tell you that this is going to be long, and I can also promise you that this is not a smooth ride for anyone, especially a new OC on this site, Cassandra. You just wait and see what I have planned for the poor girl (this is the part where I grin evilly at the screen as if any of you can see me through it)._

_About the chapter itself, there is little I can say but that I promise that future chapters will be at least four thousand words long. I very much like long chapter, but this one is short because it is both the __very long__ summary, and the introduction – a welcome-to-the-fic chapter, if you will. The story is right during the second movie, covering some missing sense, existing material, and a who new perspective of events through the eyes of a very secretive character, and it will continue far beyond that into what I can promise you is uncharted territory._

_**Honoraries and important notices**__: I'd like to personally thank my wonderful beta readers, _Ninnasims3, and Khalthar_, who are seriously the best beta readers in the world; thank you for helping me out with this, I really appreciate it._

_Now to end my rant: if you recognize it, it isn't mine. I might say that a few more time, but I am likely to just forget, so if ever looking for a disclaimer, look here._

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**Things That We Are Not**  
Chapter 1/Untimely

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_Preface_

_There are many things in the world we would rather not do, that much is solid fact. And no matter how much we try to steer clear of such situations where something unpleasant is required to be done, each and every one of us eventually finds themselves in them. Take it from me; I should know._

_Sometimes we have to lie in order to protect ourselves; be it a small lie or be it a grand lie, we do it out of instinct - mare self-preservation. This much is also fact. And despite what some people say, I honestly believe there isn't a single person on this planet who has never done it. It's just human nature. I have been brought up in such an environment where lying was always necessary. I've been taught when to speak and when to remain silent, what words to use and when to shut up, when to use little dirty secrets I uncover and when to let them go. But for the first time in all my life, I suddenly realized that sometimes you don't lie for yourself and your own gain―that sometimes lying is the only truth we have to give; I learned that sometime we have to look the people we love in the eye and lie in order to keep them safe — from the world, ourselves, and from the truth that we bury inside our heart. And once you fall down that hole, it's near impossible to crawl back out._

_So what are we left with in the end? I really don't know yet. And I now believe I will never even find out. But of all the things that I have believed and not, thought of and never considered, one thing remains unchanging: when I want something, I _take it_._

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To whomever it may concern: I am writing this for two reasons; two very specific, yet very vague reason. These reasons I am afraid I myself cannot comprehend, but that is beside the point. My prime purpose for this letter is to have some physical record of how my life had come to this; how it had turned into a battle of two minds within the same body, and why I cannot bring myself to let it go... why I cannot set myself free. The second is to let you know exactly why I've done the things I have. I cannot expect you to understand - I am afraid it is indeed too much to ask of you - but I do want to be heard; I wish for you, my dearest reader, to see my reasoning and my realize my convictions.

I fear it is not possible to translate every tear, every cry, every lash to the heart on a sheet of paper, and there is no hope for what has transpired here to be understood. Nevertheless, I write this with the trust that you, my dearest reader, will hear what I have to say and realize my side of the story. I truly did not mean for events to escalate to their heights and had I been given the chance to right my wrongs, I would have. That has no meaning now; not to me, and certainly not to her... not to you. I fear I cannot translate my feelings to paper, but perhaps there is still hope for them to be seen.

This story is not of love, or redemption; such meanings are too delicate, too neat for the hardships which it had gone through. Love, redemption... these feelings are easily understood, easily associated with, easily accepted. They are radiant streaks of yellow of the rising sun the in darkness of the dawning sky. They are lively and innocent; eternal and pure.

No, this story is not such. It is the tale hidden within a forgotten book, asleep in the depths of a locked library in a slumbering town of ghost; lost dreams and forbidden desires, fueled by their inner darkness. Its content a conflict for its lack of legible scrips and complete sum of pages.

This story is of vengeance, of obsession... of lust; it is of things lost, perhaps never to be recovered, never to be found, never to be saved. It is the story of my life, as I now can remember it, unreliable and threatening but all that I have left.

I have no recollection of the exact moment in which I had become the last stroke to the masterpiece that life had created; I have no memory of the specific event that had put me in the place that I am now. Therefore I cannot say how I had come to being a part of the game of loss and violence, lust and betrayal, vengeance and regret. But I did.

Me.

Cassandra to everyone; Cassie to one.

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_**closing note**: And there you have it: the prologue. Good? Bad? What do you think will happen next? Who is this mysterious girl? Do you want to know? What do you expect of her? Of the story? Of me? Let me know, because I love writing to bits and I really want to improve it? Please tell me how you feel about this; be the change!_

**TL**


	2. Undefined

_**Opening note**__: Alright: this is the official first chapter, and as I promised, it's _a lot_ longer._

_If you recognize it, it isn't mine. And also, this is a kind of reboot for an older story of mine, but I wasn't happy with it so I revised, rewrote, and re-titled it. So if you recognize it, it's because this is 'new and improved', if you will. I will also reply to any reviews in the closing note, jsyk._

_**Honoraries and important notices**__: I'd like to personally thank my wonderful beta readers, _Ninnasims3, _and_ Khalthar_, who are seriously the best beta readers in the world; thank you for helping me out with this, I really appreciate it__; and also my sister for offering up the last part of the chapter._

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**Things That We Are Not  
**Chapter 2/ Undefined

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I was a light sleeper; the smallest sound could sink its razor claws into me and drag me up from under like a shocking bolt, sending me into an alert, upright position. Sadly, no one had ever bothered to invest in learning this information, and such ignorance resulted in a rather rude awakening.

Much like every morning (which, sadly, included weekends) my room burst into whatever song currently playing on radio station one-o-six, which effectively forced me out of a dreamless slumber. It was a real shame that this is what I woke up to bright and early every morning. It didn't take much to bring me to consciousness, really — a creek in the floor boards out in the hallways would do the trick... If this house had anything that made any sort of misplaced noise, that is. That's why the walls of my room are sound-proof and the glass in the windows is an inch thick. All it would take to wake me up is a light shake on the shoulder. Alas, no one bothered to come wake me up like a human being, and I ended up cranky all day because the first thing I hear is a song by Pink. That woman's voice is _not_ something I want to be listening to when my dreams suddenly vanish.

I took a deep breath and my eyes popped open, the world a sleepy blur of dark colors and fuzzy shapes that could easily be anything at all. I blink once, twice, thrice before my eyes adjust to the dark and begin making out shapes of objects in my rather large bedroom. The music had yet to stop so I rolled my eyes in annoyance and let out a disgusting yawn as two small, but not at all weak arms reached up to the three meter tall concave ceiling in an awkward stretch. A strange noise startled the settled silence of my room – a mixture of sighing and coughing – as it erupted from the back of my throat in hopes that the action would suspend the incisive radio. Unfortunately, the unspoken command falls upon deaf ears... so to speak. So I vocalized my demand verbally. "Alright, MIA; I'm _up_ already," I snarled at the room under my breath, sitting upright and staring up from underneath my eyelashes. The song stops at once.

I haven't the slightest clue what M.I.A. stands for; just that it was a very smart – big surprise on that one – computer: a multifunctional software program that can easily manage its environment and surroundings – or in this case, my mansion – as long as it has primary and-slash-or backup power input. It was designed with a super advanced user interface with incredible gadgets, like holographic peripherals and voice input, and it could communicate information through speech, holographic displays, and conventional LCD monitors. I didn't know what made it work, or _how_ Arthur programmed it, or even how long it took him to make it run! All I know is that it _did_ and ever since I acquired it years ago, my life got _so much_ easier, in every other aspect of it. So many things are now done for me without the use of pesky maids who ask too many questions and are a great security risk; it doesn't mess up, doesn't ask questions, doesn't do anything half way.; very developed, very efficient, and _very_ helpful.

It could easily have been called Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, like in Iron Man, or Self Actuated Residential Automated Habitat – but that one's too much of a mouthful – but Arthur wanted to be original, so now I use a system the full name of which I don't even know. I've speculated possible meanings, but never really came up with anything that sounded remotely intelligent or cleaver. But sophisticated as she may have been – to the point of almost having a personality of her own – she is still no match for some of the things I've some of my… 'acquaintances' are walking around with. The kind of things they dreamt up in the past made my brain explode just from observing.

"Good morning, Cassandra; it's good to hear your voice again," my room answered in a mechanic, feminine voice before that thought can continue; so I just let it go and roll into a sitting position, throwing my feet over the side of my bed. "Yeah; same here," I grumbled emptily as I forced my mind to awaken. If it were up to me, our public school system would start first period at noon, and last class would end at three. We can all dream. I don't need to tell her what to do; she knows very well what my morning routine is. I hear the water in the adjacent room start running, filling up a rather large Jacuzzi to the rim as I start crawling lazily out of bed, looking to drag out my time under the warm covers a little longer.

My attempts were all in vain when I hopped off the coziness and warmth that is my bed four seconds later, untangling my limbs from the soft blankets regretfully. As soon as my feet hit the carpeted floor, I missed it. It was too early and though I wasn't really much for sleep, I was hesitant about getting up to greet the day – I didn't know if I really could, what with the kind of stuff that kept me up until one thirty in the morning. But it wasn't one thirty in the morning now: it was five thirty and it was a school day. I needed to be sharp and alert. I left the bed to be done for the maid and, as I turn to the wall-length, full-height window – which, occupying the entire semi circle east wall of my room, was equally divided into seven equal, vertical rectangles – that had been tinted to black. One by one, from the center out, they brighten up to tap-water clear – as if there was no glass there at all – and I winced against the sunlight reflection in the diamond waves. Each window displayed its own set of data — weather, UV levels, surf wave predictions, flight schedules, the time, and so on – in a translucent projection. It was good to be the daughter of a multi billionaire.

On a good day, I would smile to myself, and marvel over how the ocean looks as it sparkles like a billion diamonds in the early sun – how nice the water would feel against my skin in the hot sun and how the waves would brush through my hair as I floated upon my back. The cool of the waves would be a cold kiss of mercy, drowning out the sounds of the world so perfectly. But today is a school day – Monday, for that matter – and I had more important things to do than act like a lovesick adolescent without a life or any semblance of personality, character, or responsibility.

My shoulders and abs were on fire as I completed my set of morning workouts, a compellation of jumping jacks, crunches, and pushups; and with the added ten units in each, ever since yesterday morning, I was vaguely wondering how my arms had not fallen off. So, without stripping of my sports bra of a pajama, I spent the following ten minutes letting the hot water of the in-ground Jacuzzi turn my skin pink from the heat and pressure. I felt my muscles relax, and later melt into numb and useless putty and I took a deep breath and let myself sink under the bubbling surface, finding myself pushed to the middle of the large tub – big enough for ten. It was thunderous and soundless all at once, a rather disturbing feeling and when I came up for air, it was thick and hot and seemingly without any oxygen left to spare. I was drowning – in my confusion, in my unwillingness to go on doing what I did, in my guilt for all those lives lost, and in my shame for feeling any of those things. I should not have been feeling guilty. People died all the time – every minute, _every day_. Someone being in the wrong place at the wrong time had nothing to do with me and my line of work.

And I shouldn't be second guessing my assignment. I was given it with every trust that I would go through to the end. It was more than an individual assignment: it was what I'd been dreaming of since the day I started working for them; it was a test of my allegiance. Things were expected of me and I promised – _promised_ that I wouldn't let him down. I gave my word and nothing else mattered. Besides, it was just another kid – a nothing kid out of billions. He meant nothing on the global scale. He was useless. He was just a microscopic blip – a single pixel on the historical plain on our planet. I shouldn't feel anything about this week. It simply must be done.

Or at least that's the mantra I've been telling myself every night for the past month, to help me sleep better. And I was actually beginning to convince myself of it.

After a little while, I told MIA to dial it down as I stepped out of the Jacuzzi, stripped of my soaked clothes, and into the large, adjacent shower. The chill water hit my heated skin and I all but moaned as the sudden, pleasuring change in temperature, letting the rapid droplets kiss every inch of my pink skin. I closed my eyes and threw my head back, letting the water fall from the ceiling in a glossy curtain onto my face. It was nice to finally be cool – refreshing. It allowed for space to sort things out in my overly crammed head. I leaned back against the glass wall and turned my head sideways, having a hard time breathing, what with all the water coming down on my face, Nevertheless, I let my eyes open and blinked forcefully as they adjusted to the sting of liquid flowing into them without a rest. As my temple hit the wall, I wondered breathily, if I stood in the water long enough, would it washes away all my shame? Would it make the aching in my head go away? Would it vanquish all my troubles and make things simple again? Apparently not, because ten minutes later, I was still feeling like the biggest screw up on this planet – like a fork was in my gut, twisting it like a bowl of pasta—like an unstoppable, merciless cramp that kept me from taking a breath in the fear that the pain would only increase.

I watched the glass walls of the shower slowly change to different, softly glowing neon colors — pinks, and greens, and yellows, and purples, an reds, and blues, and many more I forgot as soon as they changed. The mild temperature of the flowing waterfall was a small relief and I turned again, facing the colored iced glass of the shower wall and pressed my forehead against it gently, taking in the coolness of it gratefully. Too much hot water gave me painful headaches, which just so conveniently happens to be the only thing I couldn't have fixed in an hour or two.

Was I even doing the right thing? I honestly didn't know anymore. All I knew was that I was condemning a kid to the same fate that awaited me in the near future. I was messing with his head and showing him a false safety and soon enough, the jaws of the hungry shark would clasp down on him and there will be nothing left to even bury. I mean, I certainly didn't want them to win, but was it really necessary to sacrifice an innocent – generally innocent – boy for the survival of my family? Was it truly a need for him to give his life so that my family could live? It was almost outrageous. But I composed my features as soon as that thought ended, and began actually showering, instead of wasting my time with things that would get me executed for thinking.

Forty minutes letter I'm done, and step out onto the soft rug, my clothes already folded neatly on the marble counter. As my feet landed on the soft carpet, a current rushed over me and every drop of water was gone, drying me completely from head to toe within seconds. I didn't know how it worked; I just knew that it did. And as long as it did, I was content and happy. The soft yellow lighting bounced off the textured white of the bathroom design, reflecting on my skin as a lively glow that no human naturally possesses. I smile at myself in the mirror, liking what I see in the reflection. It's good to have a multi billionaire for a father. Plastic surgeries from the best of the best are nothing to fuss over. After all, there was no such thing as natural beauty.

As I got dressed into my house clothes, I started planning out my week, going over every detail that could go wrong and devising a plan B, and a plan C for that, and so forth, preparing myself for any situation. I may not have had a job, but I was a busy girl. Aside from the normal home life I led – "normal" was a relative word – there is my public life. First of all, there were paparazzi. They were so desperate that they literally flew around in helicopters overhead of whichever house my father or I stayed in, looking for something to feed on. They were like vampires; no, not vampires: flees. Intolerable pests that ruined your life.

Then there were the gals at school. I was number one, but I knew all too well that my beta was out for my blood. She'd tried to overthrow my rule several times in the two years I'd spent in this school. I suppose in her eyes I deserved it; after all, I did show up out of nowhere, beautiful and made up and rich. The male student body – along with some of the female, and parts of the staff – switched their attention to me at once, and I stole her crown during the first week without even trying, rightfully taking the spotlight as mine, and mine alone. She had it out for me with a burning vengeance; sadly she's just not that good in chess — and really any other game that requires anticipating the opponent's next move and blocking it before it can be made. In the end, I won – of course – and since then, she was improving her skills at being a deceiving, back-stabbing, two-faced, double-crossing bitch with a God complex.

I needed to plan out the entire weak – every single day had to be on a schedule. What would I wear? Where would I sit? Who would I talk to? Which poor dork would I make fun of? Everything had to be on paper – or rather, on my Time-Table (the "Table" part being literally the glass surface my dressing table) – and planed to the minute. Being Queen Bee wasn't as easy as one might think. One wrong move and you were tossed to the bottom of the food chain. Even in a place like school, I had to be careful.

I continued my musing, abandoning my previous and forbidden train of thought entirely as I found myself artistically gliding across the dark parquet floor of the kitchen. Sometime during my deep thought, I walked down to the first floor. Not bothering with using a chair like a normal person, I hopped up onto the white textured – also marble, because my father really has a thing for it – glass-top table, next to my steaming plate of scrambled eggs and salad, and cup of orange juice on the side. Being in a good mood, I pulled the plate into my lap as my feet dangled freely and lazily, crossed at the ankles. My eyes wondered the familiar, light colored decor above me to the glass-railed balcony of the second floor, creating a sort of skylight — without the hole in the ceiling, though. The entire second floor hallway overhead bordered along the walls of the kitchen and private dining room, a sort of ring of glass. Somewhere above, behind me, would be a small dining area for one – a round table with two chairs, one to sit on, and one to rest my feet on.

Directly over my head hang six wineglass shaped lights, providing the lighting to the island I sit perched on comfortably, the soft lights dimmed, considering the time of day. Naturally, I jumped a little as I looked up to the sight of something falling on me, flinching away for a fraction of a second despite having gotten used to the hanging light a foot or two over my head

To my right was a five meter tall wall of grey stone texture, housing the plasma TV set, all immediately necessary extras include, bordered off as a separate part of the open room by a four-seat leather couch, also distinctively white. Decorated with dark brown and black cushions, it looked very much appealing and, at this hour, inviting. School is _too_ fragging _early_! To my left was the kitchen itself, the wall a soft creamy shade of beige, with stainless steel kitchen equipment and appliances, a granite countertop and its own set of small, round ceiling lights in a ribbon, each about a foot apart. With a glass coffee table, rounded by four ottomans to complete the sheik, modest but classy and expensive look, the large, yet very much cozy environment makes me smile to myself idly. Father hired a very good decorator.

Albeit, it was too calm—too silent—for my liking and the quiet, ghostlike atmosphere of the room deafened me. I waved a hand in the air aimlessly, growling out my gibberish demand and on cue, the radio turned on at a comfortable volume, playing a song without lyrics. The plane walls of the kitchen lit up in a symphony of soft, neon colors that blend and change and dance in an elaborate waltz. That's a lot better.

I was about half way through my breakfast, enjoying the steaming eggs and green salad when MIA disturbed me, breaking my tranquil state abruptly. I jumped at her sudden voice, hating her for sneaking up on me like that. Having already been taught well and thoroughly about letting people sneak up on me, I cursed her and my tired, treacherous skills under my breath as I barked out what it was that she wanted of me. I groaned throatily as she spoke loudly and clearly. "Cassandra, you have a visitor." She voice changed in pitch as she spoke, teeter tottering every several syllables, distinguishing her from the general monotone stereotype of smart computers. As she alerted me to this, a screen, much like the glass screen of a TV (only without the TV part; just the glass) materialized some two feet in front of my face — a sort of holographic protection of live events just outside the main gates.

I didn't know how that works, either, but like with the instant-dry carpet, as long as it did, I was happy. The edges glowed a soft blue-ish purple – a vivid, electric color which was integrated into most of the house, making the walls change in color slowly until someone chose to stop it – as I examined the figure at the large, decorative gates. I didn't take long, as I instantly recognized the long, beautiful bleach blonde hair and perfect posture, tainted with arrogance and superiority and inhuman animosity. At this I growled as well, closing my eyes and throwing my head back in pique. My good spirit had just fallen to the parquet floor in terms of mood.

"Let her in," I order dryly, bitterly, "before she overrides your system and screws you up again." Abiding my order without another word, MIA complied. The fifteen foot tall gate in the camera slid open as the screen split into four camera feeds, each form a different angle, each changing to another every few seconds as she moves forward. I watched her enter, watched her approach the house up the river-like driveway, watched her enter the lobby through the glass front door. The cameras followed her every move, and she made sure to look up at one of them, directly at me, with a sly, albeit forced, smile. It was a quarter to seven in the morning and she was already here to ruin my day. I wished to myself that she'd never come here in the _first place!_ With my appetite gone, I hopped off the table, leaving the cleaning for the maids, and sauntered over to the refrigerator. It opened automatically as I came within an arm's reach. Inside, I found and took a Hershey's – my favorite chocolate bar… right next to Kit Kat – but didn't open it, knowing full well I better not, or else it would head into the trash. Instead, I brought it to my nose and relished in the smell while I had the chance to do so.

I didn't hear her, but I knew she was there and the moment I felt her soundless presence, I put the chocolate bar back where I got it and closed the fridge. As the door with closed with a thunder in the otherwise quiet room, breaking the soft near-silence, I looked up at my accomplice with half closed, tired eyes. "What do you want?" I ask, irritated, and tired, as I crossed my arms impatiently over my chest. This had better be quick. I had to do my makeup. It will take me at least a half hour, and it's already almost seven. School starts at eight, so I only have little over an hour to do my makeup, hair, and choose what to wear – something I hadn't worn yet; I would _not_ be making that mistake again.

"Is that any way to greet a friend?" she asked in mock hurt, moving her torso back a little to press her wide open palm to her generous chest as her face assumed a fake expression of shock. She let her mouth hang slightly open, giving her face a very astrictive, but rather animal like vibe. I straightened up tall, assuming an expression myself – one of dominance and persistency. This is my land, and she is an intruder. I didn't take kindly to intruders. Of course she didn't feel threatened, but I still took the time to put all the dislike I had for her into my eyes to elaborate how much she was unwelcome here.

"Alice, get it through you thick helm: We. _Are not_. Friends," I hissed at her, leaning closer for intimidation – which would have worked with anyone who was human. "And even calling us that for kicks is basically an insult to the both of us. You are a burden that I have to deal with, so go harass some poor frat boy and leave me alone. You shouldn't be here and unless you want _someone_ to find out about what you did last week," I threatened, narrowing my eyes at her, "I suggest you turn around, and see your _human_ ass out the door," I spat, glaring daggers into her as I point a very ridged finger in the general direction of the front door. I also made a very strong point of emphasizing the word 'human' to better exaggerate that it's the only other thing she could be: the thing she hates most.

"You wouldn't dare," she said good-naturally, very much sure that I wouldn't say I word to anyone. She was wrong. "I'm _bored_," the striking woman complained in a sick, sadistic, blood-chilling, predatory voice which makes her sound like a whore desperate for sex. Then again… Actually, I should probably not think that. Pain in my ass she certainly was; but she also taught me a Pit of a lot more than any school I ever attended. I owed it to her to hear her out. "I want to play."

I didn't back down at this, quickly realizing what she came here for; instead I saw it as a challenge and a large part of me wanted very much to accept – to take out some of my anger and confusion and pity and all those other nasty little things I didn't want to have to feel. But this is not the time to break my limbs and make Cassie-shaped craters in the walls of the house.

"Well I'm really very sorry, but I don't feel like having you send my ass flying across the football field again," I snarled in anger, recalling the last time she said this. It hadn't ended well for me. It also sucked that she didn't get into trouble for that. He just let her off the hook like it was no big deal! Giving him the silent treatment for it only made me look like a fool further.

"Ok well, we don't have to play; we can go do that thing girls are all so found of: shopping. I need someone to tell me how nice this hideous form looks in a too-short dress."

"If you need an ego boost, go seduce some poor guy and then eat him or whatever the hell you do after you get laid," I snapped back tempestuously. She cringes at the eating part – or maybe the getting laid part – suddenly squeamish at the thought of human body parts getting anywhere near her, much less _in_ her. Clean kills yes, but she was always one to make sure never to get anything on her after a kill. I outwardly smirk at her discomfort with the idea of consuming a human, or attempting reproduction with one. "Alice, I'll go shopping with you when the Pit freezes over. I told you: Get. _Out_." Maybe I was overreacting, but I really was short on time. I'd swallow my words in about a week, when I'm less busy, and probably be the one to ask her to the mall. But not now, and I would certainly never admit it out loud.

"I'll get you a manual Holo-emitter so you can skip class and no one will really know," she states casually, taunting me with her offer as she checks out her nails. I can practically _see_ her dangling it on a string over my head, just inches out of reach, teasing me, taunting me, grinning devilishly as I plead her to just let me take it and go on about my day. She taught me well, yes, but I couldn't beat Alice at her own game. Lies were what she was; lying and creating illusions was her field, right next to manipulation and, obviously, bribery. She could get any information you can think of out of a human without any violence. But of course, she was too physically strong for such boredom.

"I'd rather have perfect attendance for the rest of my life," I spat, barking the words out like a dog. I think I'll pass; she would just use it against me later on in life. With that, I turned to leave. Alice, however, was quick to block me, a bloodthirsty and aggravated look in her eyes. She grabbed my wrist painfully – but not enough to bruise me; never enough to bruise: that's their order – twisting my arm up so that the middle finger meant for her was right in my face. I squinted at the sudden pain, wrinkling my nose, but didn't make a sound, controlling my face in a mask of an anger instead. At once, any idea of that the golden law over my head would protect me vanished as she hissed at me.

"You won't be his favorite pet forever, _sweetspark_. And when the day comes, I will enjoy cutting off everything that sticks out on that oh-so-perfect figure of yours, _deary_." I discretely bit the inside of my cheek and forced my heart rate down. I was not afraid of her. I was not intimidated by her. _I_ was the boss here. This was _my_ hunting ground. I was not going to be her submissive little bitch. The law protected me. The law said she couldn't hurt me. The law controlled her as much as it did me. Starscream wouldn't let her hurt me.

But even the law didn't keep her inhumanly vice grip from hurting me in all the right places and making my heart speed up involuntarily. I order it to slow down to a calm, but it came at a struggle. It did hurt, like hell and I restrained myself from wincing at the pain of my wrist being unnaturally twisted in such a way. She knew where the pressure points were. I hated that she knew them and knew how to use them.

"What do you want from me?" I demanded through grit teeth, wanting nothing more that to spit in that human face of hers. But I just look straight at her, keeping my ever accelerating heart. No matter what's going on below, put on a good face and don't let them know how you feel. To show feelings is to allow for control. "I did what you asked; what more do you want? I was your little slave for over a year; I did everything you asked if me, I got you all the information you wanted, and I didn't ask any questions while I was at it. What else is there? You said you'd leave me alone if I did everything right; _I did_." Now I was struggling to not sound hysterical. Instead, I used that to sound irritated. Underneath my blank façade, I gulped a lump in my throat at the thought of what I'd done.

It was for the general good. It was the right thing to do. Some meaningless human boy didn't matter. I repeated the mantra several times, finally managing to convince myself of its truth and any feeling of discomfort vanished. I was doing the right thing and when it was done, everything would be alright.

"I was your little spy for two godforsaken years; what do you need from me _now_?!" I questioned between grit teeth. I just wanted to go to school for a while without having to be insecure about going home. I just wanted to plan a date and be there at the appointed time. I just wanted to go to the mall with my girlfriends and spend hours on my feet, with bags in my hands, not mud and dirt. I wanted my legs to hurt from five inch heels, not from over exerting myself at the gymnasium, and I wanted my hair to smell like peaches, not the charges of a plasma cannon. My body and my brain were both in desperate need of a break. Why was that such a complicated concept to grasp? I mean honestly: everyone deserve a nice long weekend. How was it fair that I couldn't have mine?

"I told you: I'm bored; I want to play." For a moment her face looked innocent and young – like a child asking to play hide and seek. The next thing I knew was that I was flying across the room. On an adrenaline high, the seven or so meters she had flung me felt like kilometers and my vision was blurred by blonde tangles as I braced for a very much painful impact. The air was shocked out of me in an electric stab as my side collides with the solid floor. I force my mind to focus on the events, not the sensations of a definitely cracked rib as I roll back, end over end. I shielded my head and my fingers are crushed between it and the wall when I hit it with my back. For seconds—minutes—hours, I forget how to breathe and found myself desperate and gaping for sweet oxygen. How she could throw me that far was beyond me as I know that her size limits her strength greatly. Still, she's got one hell of an arm on her.

The hot rod of iron is jerked out of my lungs and I curl up into a protective ball, caving in around my head and ribs in pain. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. It's not there. It's phantom. It's your vivid imagination. Breathe in, and then out. Ignore, ignore, _ignore_.

"You... little... _bitch_..." I gasp put as I look up from my cradle of arms and shoulders. I manage to get out MIA's name, but her response is highly disappointing as I am in no mood for this.

"I'm sorry but my systems are being overridden; I cannot help you. She has disabled my internal security systems." Great; just lovely. That… cheating little _freak_ of _nature_!

"Oh screw this..." I curse at the pain, which I had forced myself semi-successfully to block out, then order, "Call Arthur." I straighten out with strain, my face wrinkling as I wince, but as I look up, Alice blocks my vision, having moved with the speed and grace of a predator to take the unfair upper hand. Her metal imitation of hair – the golden chains hanging in jingling whips from her now mechanic helm – flowed every which way, defying the laws of gravity entirely as though in position of their own mind. Having assumed her true, human sized metallic form, the plates of her armor pressed into my skin, not quite piercing it but causing a great pain nevertheless.

She pinned me down between the floor and wall, entrapping me as I tried – and miserably failed – to wiggle from underneath her. I want to take the challenge; I want to play one of her games, sick and masochistic as it sounds. I really want to show her how hard I am to be kicked around, show her what I am made of. But now is not the time for a nice round of tag-and-throw-the-human-out-the-window. I couldn't have her beating me up for the kicks. I had school and as much as I wanted a little run, I had an appearance to make. Bruises didn't look good on me.

"Get _off_ of me, you human whore!" I spit venomously, striking where it hurts. Much to her misfortune, she's stuck as a pretender—a mimicking creature, designed first and foremost for disguise... one of the three left after the war. They aren't made for combat and were, much like most of the Cybertronian animal forms, wiped out. The only ones that remain are with the Decepticons – thank Primus for that. I don't even want to imagine the damage they would have caused, had the Autobots managed to recover one for themselves.

"_What_ did you just call me?" she snarled slowly, in fury. I smirked in pride.

"Human whore," I repeated with great pleasure, liking that she was quickly losing her temper. She looked like she was about to strike, and I gathered all the saliva I had in my mouth, ready to spit at her for good measures. As I did, I mentally pinpointed the weak spot under her armor, right at her waist. It's the thinnest part of her, meant to enable her to run on all four if necessary, but if you slip, say, a knife between the plates in just the right place, it will paralyze her. There is a lot of Cybertronian physiology involved, but I wasn't in the mood to ponder over it. Knowing that kicking her will only hurt me further, so I decided on a different tactic put never get the chance to use it as a voice shakes us out of our little dilemma.

"Alice! Get off her!" I heard Arthur order. Alice turned to the voice with a sudden, eager jerk – like a predator spotting better prey – an angry snarl emerging from her throat, like an animal, interrupted during feeding. She looks between us a few times before reluctantly getting off and I smirk in victory – well, it isn't really a victory, but I had to cut the fun short. "What's going on here? Alice, what is the meaning of this?" I composed myself, brushing my hair out of my face and sat up, ignoring the pain in my back and, just barely, my side.

"It's ok," I told him calmly, "She was just training me to deflect an attack better. Evidently, I have an embarrassingly long way to go," I muttered in shame. Clearly I did, otherwise I wouldn't have needed the master of the house interrupting us.

"Are you sure you're ok?" he asked, not sounding too convincing in his concern

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go, daddy; you're a busy man, I really shouldn't be distracting you," I told him sweetly, accompanying it all with a bright smile – a very tight and forced bright smile. He left without saying a single word, and the moment he was out of earshot, I stood up, turned to a now-human Alice and shuddered.

"_Daddy_?"

"Don't even remind me," I told her, putting a hand up and just barely missing a pained groan. "It felt like a hot rod of iron down my throat as it was." And with that, we burst out laughing. "Did... did you _hear_ him? 'Are you sure you're o-ok'!" I manage to mimic through my laughter as I nearly topple over forward. That wasn't such a great idea as a sharp, stabbing pain erupted in my ribs and I almost failed to control my face as I bit down on my tongue and forced my thought elsewhere.

"_Daddy_-!" She cut off for a brief fit of choking laughter, trying to regain her composure. "_Megatron_ pays more attention to me a... and that's e- that's considering that he's _dead_!" I bent over forwards, clutching my stomach as I laughed – for more than one reason. Yeah… no, not gonna happen. He kept the money flowing my way and to that I was grateful, but that was about it for what he's done for me. And how he pretended to sound concerned. Ha! He doesn't care about me as a daughter; he cares about me as a trophy – a little something to show off to his clients and business partners. One and done, to ensure a show for your work, and to produce and heir to the company. The Christmas dinners used to be incredibly awkward while they were going on a few years back – wordless and secluded. We drank to the New Year at midnight and went about our ways as soon as possible, desperate to leave no room for conversation.

"So what's the deal anyway?" I asked as I stifled the remainder of my laugh and proferred my left leg as I cradled my ribs, holding my breath when there is no need to speak. I needed a shot of that magic heeling robot stuff – microscopic little guys that have been programmed to human physiology specifically for me. With the amount of injury I have sustained, without them I wouldn't even be alive right now. They took minutes to work wonders. I stashed a few away under my mattress. And a good thing, too, that they dissolved in your blood after some twenty hours, otherwise MRI's would be a real pain in the neck... and everywhere else.

"That human you were assigned, he is going to… well some form of school, as you know. Unfortunately, _I_ have to go there and get him." She gives an aggravated groan, throwing her head back to glare at the ceiling. Briefly, I wonder where on Earth she may have picked up that habit and from whom. "I'd rather walk around in this disgusting form for an Earth week strait. Which speaking of... 'human whore'? Ouch, that hurt. You're a fast learner; I'm proud." She learned quickly, too, having accustomed herself to the human form of carefree speech very easily. She had, since a month after her arrival, been speaking more like a human than any of the others. I guess it was a side effect of being a pretender: acquiring the character traits of the target. She certainly got the hang of blending in well.

"Flattered," I said flatly, unimpressed. "Oh and… when you go, try for a different organic alt. form. Go for something along the lines of Clair Holts. At least then you won't look like you want to mouth-rape everyone you make eye contact with. You'd look more innocent — it'll make the job easier. And where, exactly, do I fit into this plan?"

"Well, well," she says seductively, resting her hands low on her hips as she shifts her weight, angling her body part way in my direction. "Look who's been paying attention."

"Well I did have the best of teachers," I compliment. "So… what do you want... again?"

"I want you to come with me," she states with a shrug, as though it's no big deal.

I keep a composed, indifferent face, looking as unsurprised and unfazed as I could. Come with her? Was she insane? I was _not_ going anywhere with her! Especially not to a different State; to a college, no less. "I'm sorry, did… I do anything that would imply that I am up for travel?" Did... I hear her right? _Me_? To _Phili_? "I'm not in the mood, Alice," I stated bluntly, putting on a blank, disconcerted face.

"You're doing that thing again where you're over-estimating how much I care," she informed me in a bored tone, looking at her nails casually. "Cassandra, I'm not asking you, I'm _telling_ you: come with me. I won't last two weeks there without drawing attention by killing someone, and then Starscream will be 'up my ass' as you humans say." Would you look at that: she was 'telling' me. Great: once she says that, I'd learned long ago that it's a battle I can't win. She'd knock me out and drag me there if she had to. I sigh in defeat, knowing that arguing her is pointless.

"Do I look like I should be concerned how much trouble you will be in?" I countered. "I mean if anything, I'll just get myself a front row seat to watch it." I didn't want to go to Philadelphia. I didn't want to be there when they take him, didn't want to witness his most likely death, and didn't want to feel anything about it. I didn't want to undermine my wavering confidence in the matter.

This wasn't a battle I could win, no matter what excuses I gave her so, reluctantly, I sighed in consent – or at least what would be considered consent had I been given a choice in the matter. This was certainly not in my weekly schedule. Why the Pit did I not plan for her to show up and ruin everything? Because I'm an idiot is why. I can't look far enough. I can't take into consideration that factor of that if there is something that can go wrong, it _will_ go wrong.

"Someone's either gonna have to pose as me, or you better make one hell of an excuse for my school as to why I vanished for an indefinite amount of time." I started walking away, towards the nearest stair case, the glass steps looking alluring as ever – it's as though it is a staircase to the heaven, if heaven was the isolation of my bedroom – then turn around to look at her as I walk away. "And I want that manual Holo-emitter!" I shout back to her, pointing a finger in persistence. I always found those incredibly awesome. Arthur can integrate it into my closet mirror – that old thing needs an upgrade. The holographic projection isn't even in 3D! Just a flat old hologram reflection of me, only in different clothes. I've outgrown it a good four months ago.

"That or a new car! I had that last one for like, what, half a year? I need a new one!" I call again, over my shoulder as I mounted the stairs, biting my lip against the jab of pain as I moved. If there is one thing she's good at, it's that she had a very good taste in cars. I know that whatever car she chooses, it'll be a hit. With that, I walk away, leaving her to herself, and a mess for the maids to clean up. California, here I come. Again. I'm already sick of you, California.

Back in my room, after taking a nanite shot, I fixed my hair in soft curls, circling outward, away from my face, and applied several layers of makeup in front of my bathroom mirror. I touched up my light brown lipstick and applied a thin layer of gloss. Today I had school, and tomorrow I would be in another province, not even home long enough to do my homework before I had to pack a purse and get on a private, first class jet to California. I had a penthouse in Los Angeles, for situations like these and seeing as Tranquility was some twenty minutes south of the outskirts of LA, it was good to have a place to stay. It sure was no ocean view, football field sized mansion with a golf cores in the back, an indoor pool an outdoor pool, helipad, a yacht, and four cars – private cars that we actually use to get around, not the ones Arthur keeps in his collection – but it wasn't bad. I couldn't complain.

What I could complain about what the reason I was in LA in the first place. I really was staring to second guess how wise it was and as I thought that, I quickly looked around me, in fear that someone might have heard me. I shook my head then, as the level of absurdity of that: no one heard me unless they were a mind reader. There was no one here to hear me. It was a private place and no one had a right to enter. Nevertheless, I forced my mind away from the illegal thoughts as I finished applying the final touches of makeup and pulled away from the large mirror. I liked what I saw. Beauty didn't come naturally. It was the product of hard work, top of the line hair and facial products, and perhaps a plastic surgery or two. I had my nose done two years ago, and sharpened my cheekbones a little half a year later. Then and only then was I satisfied with what looked back at me in a reflective surface. I made a popping sound with my lips to better spread my lipstick and put on a soft, warm smile, putting the joy in my eyes, not just my lips.

My attempt failed and my lips fell into a deep frown. What was I doing? Who was I fooling? No one is who – wasn't fooling _myself_, that's for sure. It wasn't just another life caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was deliberate. I knew this person – on a very personal level. I knew him and I was his trusted friend. There was a difference. A stranger I could take no problem – I didn't know them, after all – But him I knew well. I knew his name, I knew his parents, I knew his life, I knew his embarrassing secrets, and I knew the people who were going to miss him. So how could I do this to him?

But then what about my family? They couldn't survive without him. He needed to die so that they could live. A single human life was worth it on the grand scale of things. I couldn't get emotionally attached. To care is to be vulnerable, and to be vulnerable is to be compromised. It had to be done. Who was I to question them, anyway? I could be killed just for thinking it, let alone voicing any of this. What am I even thinking? It's out of my hands, and even if it wasn't, it would still be done. How could I put a stranger over my family? How could I value some guy I met two years ago over those who loved and raised me? They shouldn't have kept me in the first place, shouldn't have come after me and saved me, shouldn't have brought me up to be strong and brave, and shouldn't have waited so much time and energy of a simple human girl. But they did all of that, and more: they made me one of them – a part of a whole; a part of something bigger than just myself. And if that's not love, then I don't know what is.

My acrylic nails clicked against the tabletop in an controlled rhythm as I locked my elbows and shoulders and sank in between then, pressing my lips together and looked at the blonde in the mirror. In a whisper, I listed off everything I knew about me that I was absolutely sure of.

"My name is Cassandra Queen. I am almost eighteen years old. I have a rather large family. They aren't my species, but that's alright. I love my family. I am conflicted. I don't know what to do. I am a fighter. I am a rich girl. I am… not sure what the hell I'm doing right now, but it's kind of therapeutic." I hung my head between my arms and laughed at myself. Look at me, talking to a mirror. I heard it helps sort out thoughts, but it only made me feel like a moron further. What was I doing here? What was I doing, period? I looked up, sighed, and bit the corner of my bottom lip, not breaking eye contact with my reflection. I'm pathetic. There wasn't a way around it and talking to a mirror wasn't going to fix anything. I was stuck, and I had to do the right thing. It wasn't just my job; it was my responsibility – it was an honor.

I pushed off the counter and smiled again, this time finally convincing myself of it and the smile went to my eyes, not just my mouth. And I believed it. I genuinely believed it. Everything was going to be alright; everything was going to work out right in the end. It had to. Besides, getting this done is bound to bump me up the 'Useful' ladder, which is practically a promotion to a whole new level in the family food chain. I'd worked day and night for year on end to get a personal project and I be damned if I let a squishy cheat me out of my rightful place at my Lord's side.

"Hello," I said in practice, letting one corner of my mouth drop a fraction and compensated with the other. "We haven't met yet; my name is Cassandra Queen." The sly half grin on my face gave my eyes a sinister sparkle and I grinned further and the most perfect expression I had ever mastered: the look of a superior predator.

* * *

_**Closing note**__: so there you have it. We take a look at my original character, Cassie – who, as you might have guessed by now, has already picked a side in the war. That's quite a twist to your average Transformers fics, eh? Bet you didn't see that one coming. What do you think will happen? How will she be affected by the tornado of upcoming events? In the words of the best — goriest — show: "winter is coming." What do I mean? Why don't you tell me, huh?_

_Onto reviews:_

Cliff Prime:_ I will be taking that as a gracious compliment :) And I am certainly continuing the story. At least thirty chapters, as a matter of fact. And yes, there is certainly a message in it' I meet very few fan-fics that deliver a message, and I will do my best to show that this is one of those rare few. Cassie is... complicated. and she will get even more so, what with the drastic changes coming her way. And I really hope that you will stick around through all of her dark time ― believe me, she will face many._

_So what do you say? Good? Bad? Tell me, help me improve. Be the change!_


	3. Undecided

_**Opening note**__: So once again we have a nice and long chapter. I hope you will enjoy this one, because I know for sure I did – especially the first part. I loved the first part – or at least I love the idea of the first part to bits. I'd actually like to know what you all think of it (did I do well?) Pretty please enjoy and when you get to the bottom, take a moment to tell me your thoughts. I mean I _do_ write the story for personal improvement. I'd like to know my progress :D_

_**Honoraries and important notices**__: I'd like to personally thank my wonderful beta readers, _Ninnasims3, _and_ Khalthar_, who are seriously the best beta readers in the world :)_

* * *

**Things That We Are Not  
**Chapter 3/ Undecided

* * *

It was more of a snap decision than anything, implosive and I regretted making it as soon as I did. But there was no turning back. My hands acted on their own accord and I never realized what was happening, at least not fully until the third dragged out beep. I bit down hard on my lip as my heart sped up and I glared at the stretch of road, tinting the windshield of my new car further against the rising sun. I shouldn't have done that. He'll be angry at me for wasting his time and for disturbing him on such an important day. What if he's busy? What if he has things to do far more important than dealing with me? He'll be so disappointed in me. He'll probably hate me after I ask. Maybe I shouldn't ask at all. Maybe I should just hang up before he answers. Maybe I should just forget it all.

No, I was losing incentive. I was wavering in my resolve and I had to fix it. I had to know what I'm fighting for. I had to be reminded where I stood and what for and I needed him to remind me what I meant in the grand scheme of things. I could also use a small ego booster. Knowing him, he'd only put me back in my place and make me feel as ashamed of myself as I should be at this moment, but if… if he was in a good mood, maybe he could remind me what it was that I was doing. But then what if he's in a bad mood? Do I really want to compound his situation? Do I really want to antagonize him? He would be so disappointed in me for this because he taught me better than this and he raised me stronger than this.

I reached for the controls on my cell phone, which rested upright on the console, but before I could terminate the call, it was answered. The too high pitched voice growled at me through the speaker and I flicked two fingers upwards across the all glass screen, the video call program activation in a half a foot by half a foot, translucent screen up on the windshield behind the steering wheel. I selected the Cruise Control and took my foot off the gas pedal, letting my arms fall numbly to my lap as I straightened up, and lifted my head up high in respect.

"You know better than to waste my time, Cassandra." he warned, his voice almost seeming a pitch higher than usual. His face flickered up onto the scream and behind him I could see a canopy of softly glowing blue spots falling in a firefly curtain type of backdrop to the video call. I gulped down the rest of my hesitation and spoke.

"Of course, Sir. I won't be." I assured. Or at least I hoped I wouldn't be. He had so much on his plate as it is, what with the resurrection of Megatron and everything. I didn't want to complicate things for him further with my stupid inquisitions or at least what would have been inquisitions had he been anyone else. "I was simply meaning to ask… how to deal?" I was so stupid for calling him. He had far more important things than me to spend his precious time on. "I was wondering… I was wondering…"

"Is it your plan to bore me with your inability to speak in complete sentences? Have you forgotten my dislike for your constant, dullard babbling?" he snapped at me harshly and I winced, bowing my head in shame. I didn't look back up at him as I apologized.

"Of course, Sir. Forgive me, Sir."

"Now you insult me. When you address me, you look at me." he ordered, and I did, immediately, a small smile tugging at my heart for his willingness to still even speak to me after my mindless insolence.

"Please forgive my behavior. I haven't been myself as of late, Sir. I had wanted to ask of you, how to cope?" I asked, going straight to the subject matter. There was a pause and through the screen he looked at me as though I had asked him about Cybertronian reproduction. Then, he made a part chuckling and part choking sound. He was laughing at me. Primus, had I been an idiot. What in the Well's name had I been expecting of him? To just give me good word of advice of Slaughter of the Innocents 101, or Betraying for Beginners? This was the frontline… well, sort of, anyway. This was no place to mope around about some human life.

"Cope?" he questioned, inquiring on whether or not he'd heard me right the first time. I took a deep breath before explaining. I had started the conversation and it was my responsibility to finish it. So I nodded once.

"Yes, cope. I… know him. Personally." I clarified, albeit a little hesitantly, admitting to an embarrassing fact. Somehow, I managed to keep my cheeks from flaring up in flames at my humiliation. Don't feel, don't feel… there is nothing to be guilty about. Don't… feel… "I mean he's… he's my own species. Another human and one I know by name for that. That is what is making it confusing, Sir. He isn't a faceless nobody. He's a real person with a real family. He's someone's child, someone's love. He will be missed greatly-" I never had the chance to finish that thought. The moment the words left, I regretted them and I knew I screwed up royally. I shouldn't have called.

"Do you pity that bag of flesh?" Starscream snarled at me, and I bowed my head in shame once again, not finding it in myself to answer. Two seconds later the demand came again, so sharply that it made me jerk in my seat, closing my eyes and hating myself for disturbing him. I hear my heart hammer in my ears, felt it beating angrily in my chest and bit down on my tongue. What was I thinking? What response did I expect? What was I looking for? To shame him of me further? He was already in a difficult position, what with keeping me in the first place. It was frowned down upon that he took a human under his wing, so to speak. He was already being questioned over his gracious decision. After all the crap he had to put up with for me, all the trouble he went in for keeping me safe, questioning him is what I repay him with? This is how I show my gratitude? I was disgusting. I looked up I gave an answer.

"Yes, Sir, I do. He is someone's family. That family doesn't deserve the hurt of losing a child. They are innocent, Sir, they've done nothing wrong, not to us, not to anyone. How do I take away their most precious gift like that? It is cruel to steal a child from someone so undeserving of the pain. You said once, that we are not made to be cruel. We are made to survive and-"

"Enough! I want to hear no more of this, fleshling, am I making myself perfectly clear?" he barked and I flinched at the razor blade in his voice. I nodded hurriedly, holding my tongue lest I say any more. "Answer me!"

"Yes. Yes, Sir, I understand. Please forgive my insolence. I meant no disrespect. I spoke out of place, it will not happen again." He gave a warning growl and I feared looking up at the screen to see his disappointed face.

"Had I not taught you to stray from promises you cannot keep?" I nodded again, refraining from looking up and closed my eyes against the humiliation building up inside of me. It was stupid and reckless to even think such a thing, let alone speak it to him. I should have thought before acting. I should have considered it carefully before making a decision to never think about this again.

"I… forgive me, Sir. Starscream, I… I never meant…" He shushed me then, but what snapped my attention back to the video call was that is wasn't acidic and poisonous and hard with anger. It was soft and hushing, caring even.

"Hush now, Sparkling." He paused for what felt like eternity and I held my breath against his coming words. When they came, to say I was surprised would be an understatement. I all but released the whine trapped in my throat at what he said next. "We will all find our way." His words were aggravated, but full of assurance and I waited for what he would say next. It could be anything, with him. There was really no certain knowing. "Things got complicated… but our Lord is back now." These words he swallowed as if they were some vile thing. His distaste for Megatron was kept no secret, and what with the stories I heard of his betrayals, it was a wonder he was kept alive this long for his troubles. But even now, he was encouraging. "And he will lead us into a new era… And we will need a human adviser. Who knows these fleshly beings more than one of them? You will lead your people into a new world of acceptance of their new lords."

My heart skipped a beat and I closed my eyes to clear my head. I must have heard wrong. I must have misinterpreted, it couldn't honestly be… "But…" I started, choking on my words. I couldn't have understood the way he had intended me to. "Sir, I…" I struggled for the words as a feeling of pride overwhelmed me. Me, by his side, a leader. "… Thank you. I can't say how honored I am for this." I mean it's always better to be the slave trader, not the one being sold. "But I… don't understand. Why me? Why, after what I'd just said to you…?" My hands found the steering wheel again and I gripped it until my knuckled turned paper white and an ache began in them. My heart was a steady beat of Native American drums in my ears, a sort of musical of thuds and rings and humming. An orchestra of blood rushing through my veins at breakneck speed. "I just thought that…"

"What? That I would hurt you?" I was about to nod, then realized how disrespectful it would be, but shaking my head would only be equivalent to calling him weak and incapable of showing me my place on the universal food chain. "Kill you?" I gulped, looking at him wide eyed. He sounded almost… surprised. Almost hurt that I would think so lowly of him, as though reading my mind and seeing through my composed façade into my worries and concerns. The look in his warm, red optics softened and for a moment I could have sworn the color wavered in shade, becoming almost lighter, more caring. He looked at me with a mixed look of disbelief and amusement, and then he spoke. "I would never hurt you." I couldn't resist the smile on my face at his reassurance and my heart rose from the pit of my stomach back to my chest. Nevertheless, I felt my eyes widen a fraction in shock. He would… never hurt me? That… must have been a mistake. He couldn't have meant that. Had he been aware of the things I thought, the doubts I have been having, he would no doubt execute me. "Not my little pet. Not Cassandra. Do you think so lowly of me? How could you consider my wishing to bring you harm? Had I not shown you countless times how I would not let harm come your way?" I glanced down at my lap, my face falling, again in shame. "What had I done to make you think so?"

"N-Nothing." I choked out, my heart thundering at his words. He's done nothing to make me doubt him once. So why was I so hesitant to seek his guidance? What was I so reluctant as to admit I was at a loss and needed his advice? I'd done nothing wrong, technically. So why was I so uneasy about the whole thing? Why did I have a rouge butterfly in my stomach, making want to hurl my previously consumed meal? Butterflies in the stomach are typically a good interpretation, no? So why did I hate this feeling so much? Why was it so unsettling and disturbing?

"Then why, Sparkling, did you doubt? Do I inspire fear within you?"

"N… I…" I searched through my head for an explanation worth his time, but my mind was blank and the English language escaped me when it was most needed. Way to go, Cassie, I thought to myself bitterly. Good for you for swallowing your tongue when you are demanded to speak by your Lord.

"You disappoint me. I had thought you held more faith in the one who raised you." I tasted slat and iron in my tongue at that, but ignored the pain. Why had I lost my faith in him?

"I… I love you, Starscream. I do, I really do and I trust you. You know I do, I just… I was so insulting and rude that I…"

"Thought that I would kill you sooner than teach you your wrongs and give you a chance to redeem yourself? Oh Cassandra, my little Cassandra… where have I wronged with you?" He shook his head, glancing downward for a moment before coming back up to look at me. I held my breath, anticipating what he would say next. You didn't go wrong in any way, I wanted to say, gripping at the leather wheel with an ever increasing strength. I was the one in the worn. Doubting him, questioning him, faltering in belief that he will allow me the chance to prove to him just how not fragile this one human is. I was the one who assumed before having all the facts, but then again, could I really have expected this kindness and understanding from him? There was no telling with him, how he would react.

"I just… I'm sorry. I couldn't keep my faith when I saw them, together as a family. It would crush me so to have lost you. I can't imagine the pain that awaits his parents." I admitted sheepishly, quietly, wanting to catch the words and swallow them as soon as they left my mouth. We are made to survive, yes, but not to be cruel. They kill for the pleasure of it, yes, but even here, there is honor among thieves. Or, well… extraterrestrial murderers, tyrants, and dictators.

"There isn't a greater pain then the loss of family. I know this well. But is he innocent, child?" When I didn't answer, he asked again, pressing for an answer harshly this time as he demanded me to speak. "What has he done?"

"He… he took your means of salvation, and used it to murder your Lord. He… he stole the Allspark from you and turned it into a weapon of murder. And when your Lord Megatron perished, so had the last hope for your planet… for your salvation. He… he took away the last hope of your race and condemned it to a regrettable, undeserved end." I answered, finding strength in these words as well as a hate I didn't know until now I bore within me. He killed my family and whatever chance they had left of saving themselves and their home. This blood was on his hands.

"So is he innocent? Does he not deserve this fate?" Starscream questioned impatiently. I didn't hesitate before answering, finding the undeniable truth in his words and the strength they provided.

"No, Sir. He will get what is coming to him and pay in full for his actions. Please forgive me for doubting you. I was just… how could I take away an only child and bear that… the guilt of having contributed to a murder of another human? I don't know how to cope with breaking such a close family so wholly and completely. Sir… I don't know how to cope right with devastating a mother and father by the loss of a son." I tried to explain, praying to primus that Starscream understood my concern. Sam had killed Megatron and destroyed the Allspark, the last salvation for an entire race. He signed their death warrant and for that there is no pardon. But Ron and Judy had wronged in nothing. We are not cruel, we do what is needed to be done to survive.

But Sam's actions are unforgivable and they must be punished wholly and cruelly, and for those actions, his family, too, must pay. After all, the best way to punish someone is by hurting their loved ones. They will pay for his mistake.

"It is my fault." I almost choked on my spit and gave him a sidelong glance. Was there someone else partaking in this conversation that I need to be aware of? Even so, he didn't ever take blame for something. I almost asked him if he was alright, concern flooding me at his four simple words.

"Starscream…?" I began carefully, needing further clarification on his abrupt, and equally absurd, statement.

"All of this. This is my fault." He looked at me, directly at me. Not with is usual, superior look that always looked above me, beyond me. He looked directly at me and I was forced back into the seat with a surprised jerk, becoming truly worried for his wellbeing. The beatings he received from Megatron when he failed at something were kept no secret, gloated over, even, but did Megatron become so disappointed in him to the point of breaking Starscream?

"I should have told you years ago." I distantly took notice of the car stopping at an intersection and gripped the wheel chokingly, my blood running cold. "It was selfish of me. I wished to see you grow to be the strongest you can be. It was my wish to watch you get older and harder and become a soldier over the years. And in this pointless hope, I failed to tell you the truth. I let you mingle with the lowlife you spent so much of your time with and was blinded by your accomplishments and achievements to see you trail further from us." I didn't know what he was talking about, but I wanted to spot him. My heart jumped to my throat and any words on consolation. Any words I wanted to use to silence him froze behind the thick barricade. I was muted.

"They have made you soft. They have made you vulnerable and, in my pride, I failed to see the connection you wished to have with your natural roots. You cannot take away that care you harbor for the human race. I see that now and if one of us had failed the other, it had been me in my inability to teach you well the dangers of such a bond." He paused, allowing for the words to sink in but they were Cybertronian for the effect they had on me. The words I heard, but they were senseless noise that I couldn't make out in the commotion.

"What… I…" I searched for a good response, wanting him to clarify, to speak in a language I understood. "I don't…" I struggled, the words catching on the blades in my throats and being torn apart to nothing before they could reach my lips.

"These things you are feeling." he spoke, not making much sense at all, but minute by minute, hour by hour, I was deciphering the message behind his words. The conclusion didn't come before he continued to speak and I was forced to puzzle them into a picture all the while paying attention to new information. "The hesitance, the hurt, the… guilt." he spat the words as though they were a vile creature and I had to agree. "These are human emotions that you harbor towards your human kin. You cannot vanquish them. And the guilt will only grow as does the blood on your hands. There is no running from that." I made a sound in the back of my throat, a part of a protests escaping me but turning into more of a whine that anything by the time the sound is made. "But Cassandra… we all get lost at times. And we cannot find our path on our own. We face obstacles on our way and we hurt for the things that we have done. I, myself, harbor many regrets of the past. But what had I taught you about the past and the future?"

I croaked once, twice, before forcing myself to speak, thunderstruck at his words, his understanding, and his granting of redemption. "The… ends justify the means." I answered weakly, knowing the rightness of the answer but not its meaning in this context. I knew that it meant that for my family to survive, the human race had to hurt. But how could he ask this much of me? This was too much even by my standards.

"Speak up." Now that was the Starscream I was familiar with. Impulsive, controlling, demanding. And I was happy to comply at the hard order.

"The ends justify the means." I said, much more clearly and with a newfound confidence.

"And when we are at the end, we find our way to the truth. On our way, we find much pain and suffering and perhaps I am responsible for not teaching you the cruelties of your society. Perhaps it was I who neglected the biggest threat to your young mind in my selfish strive to make you the best. But you must remember that they are not your family. They may look like you, they may speak like you, but you are above them. And when the day comes, you will lead them into a new world. We find our strengths not in our scars and demons, but in the sacrifices of others. Remember this and it will never fail you."

"For a new world to rise, the old one must be laid down to dust." I stated plainly, understanding where he was going. There isn't a successful end without the loss of many others. The only way to win is to give up that which you love most. He nodded.

"You mustn't compare yourself to the lowlife you associate with. They did not raise you, they did not teach you, and they did not love you, they never will. Not as I or any of your family. They will hurt you, again and again until there is nothing left of you out of their selfish pride. They are nothing to you and you owe them nothing and the sooner you accept their fate, the easier it will get. Humans are born to die, Cassandra. Never forget that." I nodded, finally understanding something in this horrible mess, feeling myself begin to smile. I may have been born human, but I was raised to be one of them. They are the ones who stood by me every step of the way. "You are asking the wrong questions, Cassandra. You seek forgiveness and advice, and give your gratitude. These are not the questions you should concern yourself with. Your loyalties will be put to test shortly. You must decide on which side you stand by: your family or your human race of seven billion. Are you ready to condemn them to certain death?"

"I will always choose-" But he never gave me the chance to finish that sentence.

"And Cassandra," he said one last time, catching my attention. "Don't ever betray me again." Every molecule of air was sucked out of my lungs and I was gasping for oxygen. Betrayed. I didn't betray him… did I? I couldn't have. I simply asked… I asked something I shouldn't have. I questioned him and his intentions. My heart dropped to my stomach, a sort of sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, like bile rising. "And don't ever admit to a love out loud. Love destroys, and to love is to be the broken. Do not put me in a place where I have to fix that vulnerability." Then the screen went out, the call being terminated and I was left in the dimmed car, staring dumbly at where his face had once been on a translucent sheet on the windshield. Not to love, never to love. To love is to be broken. His words spun in my head and I regret ever having admitted my love for him out loud. But how could I not, when he raised me and taught me and cared for me, and tended to my every need and loved me? He could have easily left me to die in that ice when I was a toddler. But he found me in the Canadian Rockies and saved me.

He brought my mom and I back home and had us healed, and my every want and need tended to. For months on going I waited for nothing, my every wish granted before it could be consciously made. And then he began teaching me, helping me survive, giving me everything he could. He humiliated himself and put himself down with the care he showed me and cared little about it so long as I was taught and protected and well looked after. Me, a small human child who couldn't sit still in one place for longer than two minutes, a kid of five who was always under feet, an ankle biter that was about as tamable as an ocean storm. Now if that's not love, I don't know what is. If I didn't love him back, I wasn't even classifiable as a human being, let alone one with a heart. And now, after everything, he promised me a proud place by his side, a chance to show what I was made of. I could only ask for this in a dream. I could prove it to him that the years spent on me weren't a waste of time and I was worthy of all the praise I was given.

Some of us were made to lead, others to follow. Never both. I was born to walk in the steps of others with my head bowed in respect. But that was in another world. In another life, in another version of me. In this human version of me, that Starscream feared would consume me, I was the one who set the rules. I was the one with the power of influence and financial status and I was in the world now. I spent the next seven minutes in stunned, thunderstruck silence, trying to wrap my head around what he told me. I wasn't in on the secret enough. Getting behind their backs was getting tiring and though I do love a good challenge, it was wasting my time. I needed to get in on the secret, really in. I needed them to invite me in. And how do I get them to invite me in? How to you get to the heart of the serpent? How do you get someone to let you in?

You shut them out.

I was in this human world now, and it was time to put on the innocent mask. This was my playground. My playground had toys, and I was the only one entitled to play with them. If anyone wanted to play with my toys, they would have to pay the price. So how does the one with the shiny new toys make the other kids feel sorry and give me more shiny toys? How did I make the shiny new toys… undesirable?

The quiet rev of the brand new, courtesy of a certain pretender, arctic Lotus Evora died out as I parked it in a wide open space, across the street from the too small, yet nicely decorated residence of the Winchester... excuse me, Witwicky family. What an odd surname. With a family name like that it was no wonder Sam's the first of them to get post secondary education. I let it sit for a second, taking that short amount of time to compose my face and posture. It was about time for those acting lessons from Alice to kick in once more.

I took a breath, got into character, and pulled the keys out of the ignition. I opened the door and stepped out into the morning sun, a bright, warm smile on my face. The merciless post-summer sun hit the silver surface of my new car and I squinted at the reflection as I mentally cursed Alice out. I just knew she picked this color on purpose just to piss me off. And I dared to think of what would happen to my hand should I try to manually open the door if I left it out in the sun for too long. She's already singed my fingerprints off once when she bought me a slick black BMW convertible. It was her harmless way of getting back at me for manipulating her into shopping my cars. Nevertheless, I trusted her judgment. It was a beautiful car, and so long as it was the sexiest car on the street, to show that I was rich, therefore better than everyone else, I was happy.

Sam's father, Ronald, spotted me from across the street, straightening up as he waved at me. What with the hair and clothes I was wearing, it was no wonder he did. He called out to me enthusiastically, throwing his arms left to right over his head. "Brooklyn!" He called out to me from the across the street as I crossed it, shouting his greeting gleefully. "Came just in time to help us kick Sam out of the house. Finally."

"Yes, about time, isn't it?" I called back with a widening smile and I crossed the paved road, my heels clocking against the concrete. "Eighteen years of sitting on your neck, feels good to drop the kid on the ground, ain't it?" I jogged the last few steps, meeting up with Sam's father half way with a good pat on the shoulder.

"So Brooks, come to see him off or steal his good stapler?"

"Nah." I waved him off. "I was actually hoping to dig through his boxes and find his dear diary and collection of sci-fi DVD's." He laughed full heartedly at my reply, raising his arm then dropping it good naturedly on my shoulder again. I caved in a little under the weight. "I think he's still got Star Wars hidden in the bottom drawer of his closet." He gave a throaty laugh and nodded his head in approval.

"Good girl." he praised and my smile brightened further, if that was even physically possible. "Hey, Sam!" Ronald called out over his shoulder, back to the house. "Brooks' here for you!" I left his side, to the front door, making sure to stay on his skillfully laid out stone path that never failed to look new and tended to. I thought about the elder man's words. Brooklyn Foster, the aliases I have created or rather came up with, actually creating a person from scratch is a lot of had computer centric work, and sadly beyond my current capabilities, grand as they may be. We had to be extremely careful. I needed everything from hospital records, to school grades, to whom my uncle's cousin twice moved was and where they had gone to school to, and who they were friends with.

Brooklyn, she's... She's really something different. Quite the step up for me, too, if I may say so myself. Never before had I impersonated someone for so long. Two years straight is quite the proud record for me and detest her as I may, Brooklyn really helped me grow in the art that is acting. As a girl who is visiting her uncle in Tranquility, Brooklyn showed up at the local park all alone with no one to talk to some two years ago, a little less, actually, but close enough. Mikaela caught sight of her first, and the two hit it off quite well, spending an hour just talking about boys, and then another hour discussing which designer is fit for fashion of the year, DVD arguing, who deserved the title of Miss America. That's when Sam rolled up and the raven haired beauty that is Mikaela Banes, introduced us.

It's been pretty black and white since then. Well, except for a small detail I'd rather not admit to. The more time I spent with the kid, the more I liked him and, with time, I've found there was little acting left in the friendship we've sprung. This has been both a great concern of mine, but also, strangely enough, a great relief. There was just something about him that inspired trust, something I couldn't quite put my finger on just yet… Something human. But I was counting on finding it out soon, this was something of a secret, extracurricular activity of mine.

"Go ahead, kid. He should be up in his room!" Ron informed me as I reach the halfway point between him and the front door.

"Thanks! Wouldn't miss seeing him out of here already." I called out jokingly as I jogged across the neatly paved path to the small house, all the while taking a moment to wonder how in the world they all fit inside. My living room was the size of this house alone. Don't even get me started on the rest of the mansion and that's just the one I was residing in currently. The house was simply decorated and although Judy and Ron have a good taste, it was way too small for even one person, let alone three. I shook my head. Poor people.

When I entered the house with every intention of finding Sam and helping him with the final boxes, I found myself in a stupor from which I was unsure of how to break free of. Standing rigidly and very much uncomfortably in Judy's too tight embrace was Sam, the elder woman sobbing historically into his shoulder.

"Look what I found, Brooklyn!" Judy wailed, tears lining her pale cheeks at she held up a pair of tiny little white shoes, double knotted at the laces. They could easily fit in my hand. "It's Sam's baby booties!"

Sam stiffened in discomfort at the realization of that someone was witness to his current state of humiliation and I tried, harder than I can remember trying in a very long time, to maintain a straight face. This is just too precious. Humans can be so assuming sometimes. So petty, yet so very alive.

Ron, who walked in just in time to see the scene unfold. Judy weeping, Sam struggling to politely claw his way out of her vice like grip, and me, the awkward third wheel, standing frozen as a statue. Ron broke us all up, mumbling something to himself about the lot of us needing to grow up. "Yeah... college, bummer." Isn't it, I thought to myself with a sly grin.

This was just another thing the Deceptions did for me. They liberated me from having to go to post secondary. As soon as high school was out, I would be free of the prison sentence that was education.

"You have to come home very holiday." Judy sobbed, pulling away to look Sam in the eyes as she told him that he was obligated to come back to visit every Holliday. "Not just big ones..." she choked out, "you… have to… for Halloween…"

"I can't come home for Halloween, mom." Sam said, his tone suggesting a parent telling their kid that Santa isn't coming this year. This was just too cute.

Ron, who had been standing in the hall, broke up Judy's meltdown from the realization that her little boy, who apparently had ridiculously small feet when he was a baby, wasn't so much of a baby anymore. He put us all back on track, reminding the lot that there were still boxes to load up.

Sam, now out of his mother's hold, came over embarrassed, to great me, successfully breaking me out of my stupor. We said our greetings and took off up the stairs to fetch the last of his things from his room, making small talk as we went.

"So... you excited to get out of this place, eh? Come on, spill the beans, girls; late night parties, alcohol... sex with anyone who isn't your girlfriend?" I teased, nudging him in the shoulder suggestively, an eyebrow arched. "Look at you, little bird all grown up and leaving his nest... and baby booties." I stiffened a laugh as Sam's face took on a red shade.

"Shut up." was all I got in reply. An answer at which I openly laughed.

"You know... I just wish I had a camera up and running right then. Then I could name you my little slave and have you do whatever I want. That is, of course, ignoring the fact that you already do that, courtesy of your stash of porn magazines." I mumbled, adding the last part under my breath without bothering to hold back a mischievous smirk. "Did Mikaela ban sex again? 'Cause you were getting real friendly with your right hand those two months. I mean, don't you just love how a girl can hold sex over you like that? We've got you men so whipped." I chuckled, the evil smirk never leaving my lips.

"You know that two can play the blackmail game, right? I mean... you did make out with a teddy bear..." Sam trailed off like it was no big deal. My mouth fell open.

"Ah... Mikaela dared me! It doesn't count!" I squealed, spreading my arms out to further exaggerate my point.

"Sure it doesn't." Sam gloated, dragging out the words which dripped in sarcasm. A shameless smirk decorated his face brightly.

"Besides, it isn't like anyone's gonna believe you anyway." I retorted, shoving him a little as I defended my honor. In a form of reply, Sam held up his phone nonchalantly, giving me a light shrug.

"They will if they see it." Once again, my jaw hit the dark wooden floor of the hallway in shock.

"You wouldn't dare." I hissed at him, coming to a dead stop and whirling around sharply to face him. All Sam did was shrug, tossing his cell up into the air and catching it with one hand, completely unmoved by my silent threat. He arched an eyebrow in challenge as though to say 'try me'. I jumped at him, reaching for the old thing, trying to snatch it, but he blocked me, holding the phone over his head, just out of my reach.

"Give me that!" I shouted at him, jumping up to reach it and flip through it, finding and erasing the video that he supposedly took. But as I got close, he snatched it farther away from me, laughing. "Not fair, you little jerk! If you show that to anyone, I'll bury you!"

"Ah-ah-ah... what's the magic word"

"Give me the phone or I'll tell everybody that you have small 'equipment'." I threatened, snarling up at him. He only laughed some more, shaking his head, no.

"Nope, guess again. You've got dirt on me, I've got dirt on you, and if hanging out with Mikaela and you taught me anything, it's that you never let go of your bargaining chips." I let out a small hiss, but dropped the subject, understanding that he wouldn't give up. For all I knew, he never filmed it, but I wasn't willing to take that chance quite yet and although I was hardly recognizable without my makeup, it was still not footage I would have anyone see. The dare itself was humiliation enough as it is. I didn't need witnesses.

Making it to his room, we each found a box to carry and brought them downstairs, making small talk as we went about how it must be to be going to college and what were his plans once he was out of earshot with Mikaela. He, in turn, told me sternly that he had no intention of cheating, a remark at which I laughed even though I knew it was true.

I took a second to think about what was his fate once he got out of range with his so called protectors and friends. I knew they needed him, and I knew I couldn't change that even if I wanted to try. He would be dead before the week was out, and I would be back home with my family.

As I placed my box in the back of Ron's minivan, shoving it deeper in lest it falls out when the trunk door is opened, my cell rang. Which was strange, considering I'd only gotten it days ago and had yet to give everyone my new number. Nevertheless, I pulled it out of my purse, looking at the screen for the caller ID.

"I gotta hit the ladies' room." I announced, groaning as though in annoyance. "Be back in a minute." and jogged back into the house, finding the bathroom at the end of the hallway. As soon as the door was closed behind me, I answered, readying myself for a lecture about why it took me so long to pick up.

"Yes?" I said, bringing the small cell to my ear carefully, prepared to squirm away. Surprisingly, Alice skipped the talking about picking up the instant she rang and got right to business.

"How long before his flight?" I shrugged, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't actually see me.

"About two and a half hours. Then a couple hours across the country to Philly and a half hour drive to the dormitory. You make your grand entrance at around one thirty… no, take that back, four thirty Eastern Time. So yes, everything is exactly on schedule. There is a party on the night before school, so you'll be able to catch him either there or in his dorm. And before you ask, yes, I remembered to stick a tracking device in his phone. You set your bar of expectations a little too low for comfort. I know what I'm doing. It isn't the first time, remember?"

"And the-?"

"I'll search through his clothes and clear the house of bugs when he leaves. And the mess you made in Shanghai the other week? I've listened to the phone records on my way here. Found a couple of things Starscream will wanna know. The attack was messy, they've got a few leads on you. Tell him you've got to relocate the Bangladesh outpost." I informed her. "And you know you can put a little more trust in me, Alice. This isn't the first time I'm doing this sort of thing. I know what I'm doing," I repeated, hoping to make the point perfectly clear. There was a small growl on the other end of the line and briefly, I wondered what it was I said wrong.

"Watch your tone with me, my dear Cassie, because your time is almost up and when it runs out, I will enjoy the sound of your bones breaking one by one." she snarled at me, her predatory tone sending a small chill dawn my spine. I stiffened, but didn't allow my voice to let her know this.

"Well excuse me for expecting a little more." I spat venomously. "I do think I deserve the credit. So how was Shanghai, anyway? And the shard, did you get it?" I asked, wanting to know how far in progress were we with the plan. "Did they run into any problems?" I heard two on our side died, Sideways and Demolisher. They may have been a mere distraction from the true plan, but they didn't deserve to die. Then again, we needed information and if that meant sacrificing people from our team, so be it.

"Mind your own business." she hissed at me, her voice venomous as she spoke. "Focus." I held back a defeated sigh, feeling a pang at her harsh words. Stupid, isn't it, being sad over someone's rudeness? She was a Deception. Cruelty was in her job description. I couldn't let myself mistake tolerance for liking.

"I am focused." I bit back, pressing my lips into a thin line in distaste for her low expectations of me. Just because I wasn't made of metal didn't make me any less capable than her.

"Good." And with that, she hung up. I put my phone away, waiting an extra second. For what, I didn't know, before flushing the toilet and turning the tap on. I ran my hands under the water and left the bathroom. As soon as I got out into the hall, commotion from the kitchen reached my ears. The sound of something shattering, and noises I could only describe as a mix of growling, whining, and baby talk in a language I couldn't place. I circled around the corner, peeking into the room from the hall, pressing myself to the wall to hide better, and found the source of the misplaced noises. A good dozen of tiny scattered robots, the largest being the rough size of the average microwave.

It took me a second, but eventually I realized that it was a microwave. In fact, every one of them was a kitchen appliance, seeing as every actual kitchen appliance was gone. They ran around, looking too confused to really realize what is going on. I have seen many robots in my life, some sentient, some not, but aside from the odd Decepticon who apparently just never got to grow, never have I seen Cons this small. They waddled around, almost clumsily, as they tried to figure out their surroundings and how to properly react, muttering gibberish to themselves and each other as they attempted to put together a plan of action.

After two years of playing the role, getting a good feel of Brooklyn's likes, her dislikes, her strengths and weaknesses, her fears and worries, I had found that I no longer stopped to ask myself 'what would Brooklyn do?'. I just did it.

And so, in the second that it took for me to enter the kitchen and take in the scene in front of me, a horrified shriek, high and shrill, rang out around me, my face twisting into an expression of fear as I took off in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between me and the kitchen as humanly possible.

"Sam! Sam, there is something in your kitchen!" I screamed, tripping over my own feet as I ran up stairs to the second floor. My leg collided with the edge of the stair and I winced in pain, knowing that it would quickly bruise. "I think it's alive! Sam!" On the last step, I tripped, my shoe catching on it and I flew forwards, landing on my hands and knees before scrambling back up in as much panic and fear as I could muster. The acting classes I take in school helped, too, as I remember the words of my teacher vaguely. Something about putting yourself in the person's position to get a feel for what they are experiencing. Of course I had never encountered any sort of fear in a similar situation seeing as for me, robots were old news. Still, I dug around in my mind, for a moment which had made me scream in fear. I found a mere handful for use.

Summoning that feeling once more, I put it all in my voice and face, my feet suddenly taking me down the short corridor even faster and I burst through Sam's closed bedroom door, distantly hearing a crack. I might have broken the lock. I then found myself on the floor once more, failing to catch balance as I swung forward onto the untidy room, panting heavily.

"There... something..." I get out between gasps, getting up and practically throwing myself at a flabbergasted Sam, my hands flailing on attempt to point back at the door, which had swung open, slammed into the wall, and then closed again as his mouth fell open. "... Kitchen..." I mumbled, my voice muffled and my eyes wide with fear.

Sam grabbed me by my forearms, straightening me up and giving me the 'what the hell?' face. "Brooklyn, speak like a normal person." he instructed, stressing the words to better make his point. Still wheezing to catch a breath, I looked straight back at the door, choking down something in the back of my throat.

"There is something..." It got out, my voice thick. "in your kitchen..." as I clung to the collar of his shirt, gaping at the closed door.

"What?" Sam asked again, as though he hadn't heard right the first time. I frantically shoved a finger at the door.

"The kitchen... there is something there that shouldn't be in a kitchen! What the hell do you keep in here?!" I cried out, panicked. Sam grabbed me by the shoulder, turning me around and shaking me back into sense.

"What is in the kitchen?" he demanded of me, just as I hear the door creaking open. Turning around, I saw what I could only assume to be one of them, peaking into the room through the crack.

"That!" I shrieked, frantically pointing at the door as it swung open.

I screamed. Sam screamed. Sam staggered backwards hurriedly, tripping over his shoes, and fell over, dragging me down with him. We both kept screaming as we scrambled to get to our feet, ducking as tiny gunfire, like a BB-gun, sounded around us. Sharp clinks echoing around as the small bullets collided with the bedroom furniture.

"The window!" Sam cried out, shuffling around me as I tried to make my feet move. "Get out of here! Run!" he shouted again, shoving me in the back and I stumbled forward until I reached the window. Forcing it open, I crawled out with one hand covering my head, half expecting to find something solid under my other. But I found nothing but empty space. I fell out with a shriek of surprise, feet up in the air as my back twisted unnaturally. I lied on the canopy, which was thankfully right underneath the window, struggling to untangle from my aching limbs and joints. Following me was Sam, and I scrambled out of his way, making space for him as he jumped out, still shouting.

"Jump!" he ordered as I got to my feet, ducking back down with a sharp cry as more tiny little gunfire showered us. Tiny or not, it hurt as hell to get shot. I turned to face him, manifesting 'have you lost your freaking mind?!' into a facial expression.

"You're crazy! I'm not jumping, it's too high!" But my protest fell on deaf ears and before I knew it, two hands on my back pushed me and I stumbled forward, colliding with the ground too soon and far too painfully for my liking. I cried out in pain as my heel hit the grass awkwardly, sending electricity up my leg and spreading through my ankle. I cursed out loud and I cradled my foot with my hands, eye wide at the sudden, stabbing pain of a failed landing. My left wrist, too, was unlucky and I sprained it some, landing on it for support the wrong way nearly dislocating it. I bit down hard on my lip against the hurting and forced myself to focus on the miniature attack.

Nevertheless, I, in shock, crawled my way to then only thing in the back yard which provided some sort of shelter from the rain of bullets, the recently installed fountain. Sam and Ron, who had been finishing loading the car when he heard the ruckus and came to check, found their way to either side of me faster than I could register as the fountain showered us with water, as well as parts of itself, the result of a narrow miss of a shot probably aimed at one of our heads.

"What was that?!" Ron shouted, covering his head with both hands, his tone rushed and panicked, voice shaking in fear. What normal person wouldn't be afraid? I curled into a small ball, bringing my knees up to my chest in failed attempt to take up less space and miniaturize my chance of being assaulted by the BB-gun fire. I blended my own scream in with Ron and Sam's, albeit louder and more hysterically.

"The whole kitchen!" Sam shouted back in reply to his father, over my reparative, frightened cries of 'Oh-my-God! Oh my God, oh my God! I don't wanna die!'.

I never saw him fully or clearly, the mass of the garage door exploding only in my peripheral vision, but as Sam called upon his guardian, I did get a stolen glimpse of brilliant, sun-like yellow and coal black. In that moment, my acting faltered, and so did my scream. He was a faded, confusing blur in the corner of my eye and I didn't so much as turn my head to see who it was. But in my heart I knew exactly what had come out from Samuel's garage. My heart sank sickeningly into my heels and I felt my pulse thud all over my body, in every pressure point there was. My blood ran hot and fast in my veins, fogging up my mind and I froze. It could have been years for all I knew. It could have been decades but as the large, wasp colored shape flew past my vision, sending bits and chips of wood flying every which way, destroying the yard ominously; I felt like I was going to lose my five star hotel suite breakfast. I felt ill in every sense of the word and my whole body began shaking in a panic. I knew all too well that I was entering a state of shock.

It couldn't be here. This was unreal. It wasn't really happening, to me, right now. It had to be a terrible, disgusting dream. It shouldn't be, couldn't be, real. I gulped down bile as I felt my body's natural forewarning system kick in, a crawling tingle just behind my earlobes, the thirty second marker. I was about to get very sick. My mind went blank I couldn't make myself move, I couldn't make myself scream, I couldn't breathe as the lawn exploded in a shower, the smell of burned roses and sage that is canon charge. I was trembling in my own skin as the scent of barbeque smoke reached me, following shortly after an erupting explosion.

This couldn't be real.

And just like that, it all stopped. Everyone went quiet like nothing happened and my ears rang loudly, my pulse thundering at top speed. I couldn't breathe for my lungs were suddenly on fire from salt water and I gasped up for oxygen that never came, as if all the air had been pulled out into space and we were left without an atmosphere. I was suffocating, drowning. I couldn't concentrate as my heart rate accelerated still, sending me into panic when I opened my mouth but only ocean water flooded my lungs, choking me, burning my insides, setting my blood on fire like kerosene. My head felt heavy and light at the same time and I fought to keep my eyes open.

This couldn't be real.

But as the men at either side of me were gone, the curiosity eating at me from the inside won the battle and I pushed myself up on my knees weakly, numbly. I turned around and grabbing a good hold of the fountain behind which I remained hidden, I peeked out, scanning the area. When my eyes met blinding yellow and charcoal black, my gaze trailed up, up, up... And as my breath burned against my tanned fingers I realized, with a chilling shiver, I realized that today I had seen my very first Autobot.

On the thirty second mark, I couldn't fight anymore, and the contents of my stomach were gorily emptied into the now waterless fountain. Red and yellow and a strange shade of jade stained the inside of the stone fountain and my fingers and I shook violently, losing any grip on reality.

This couldn't be real.

I lost my grip on the slab of stone before me as well, and collapsed on my hands in the grass, wincing in pain as an electric shock was sent through my wrist and up my arm and I bit down on my lip against the vomit still fighting its way out of my throat.

Instantly, my mouth went dry, my eyes widening and something in the back of my throat squeaked. The sound beyond my control as I stared up at the yellow Cybertronian from underneath a honey blonde curtain of ironed curls. So bright, so colorful, so deceitfully trustworthy. I felt the bile rise further up my throat at the sight of the deceptive creature that was all but using Sam to gain humanity's trust further, as if they needed to prove anything anymore. These people had invited these things onto their planet and into their homes like they were pets to be tugged around and shown off to friends. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt a tug, pulling me to tell Sam who he was friends with, what kind of monsters he put his life in the hands of. I wanted to tell him to run, to get away while he still could, before they dragged him down so far that he would never be able to see the truth.

I crawled back up, using the fountain as a cast to stand up, favoring my good left leg and I glared at the Autobot in shock and disbelief and a burning hate that cut off all thought for what felt like an eternity. "What the hell do you keep in your garage?!" I screamed hysterically, looking between Sam, his father, and his mother, who had come out of the house shouting and panicking.

Sam turned around to look at me, his eyes wide as he finally realized that I was there, and two seconds later, Brooklyn passed out cold on the ground.

This couldn't be real.

* * *

_**Closing note**__: so there you have it. Deeper exploration of her home life and the kind of things she faces when dealing with her 'family'. As my beta, _Khalthar_, said, she is suffering from _Stockholm syndrome _and_ Battered Wife Syndrome_ and I just can't wait to explore that deeper!  
_

_Also, do you like the long chapters of seven to ten thousand words, or would you like shorter ones? _Ninnasims3_ informed me that some people's attention span runs out and, quite frankly, by the time I was finished this chapter, I didn't remember how it began, so which would you prefer? Should I split the chapters in half, or do you want me to keep thin lone?_

_So what do you say? I love the first part, and the last – the one where she's in shock and denial. I loved writing it and exploring her worldview; did you? Good? Bad? Tell me, help me improve. Be the change!  
_


	4. Unacknowledged

**_Opening Note_**_: So, the first thing you'll notice is that this is short (chopped in half, world-count wise). That's because it's the fourth chapter and I'm already giving you a filler. But bare with me, folks: this is an important part of Cassandra's character. Last chapter we saw how she is being manipulated. This chapter we take a look at her from forms of manipulation. Keep in mind: she isn't afraid to exploit weaknesses and hit weak spots and work on people's personal morals and we see that here. I take a look deeper into her head and her view of life._

_I really like how this turned out, too :)_

**_Honoraries and important notices_**_: I'd like to personally thank my wonderful beta readers, _Ninnasims3, _and_ Khalthar_; thank you so much, guys!_

* * *

**Things That We Are Not**  
Chapter 4/Unacknowledged

* * *

"_What did I tell you about preparation?"_

"_It's the key to success… and to survival." I answered bluntly, not moving my eyes from a phantom point in space. I kept them locked in place where they were, my back upright and rigid. I pushed my shoulders back the smallest fraction, lengthening my neck as he sat before me in his makeshift chair. My monotone voice carried through the metal walls of the hangar in an echo, enhancing my volume._

"_Your first private assignment. It's a notable step in the right direction." Starscream complimented, nodding his approval and I didn't stop the swell of pride ripping through me, causing my chin to arch upwards as I kept my eyes frozen in practiced position. My very first assignment. My very first _private_ assignment. If that wasn't the biggest accomplishment yet to occur in my life, I didn't know what was._

"_I have been watching you grow into the brilliant student that you are today, and I take my pride in that. But that credit is not for me. Not today, Cassandra." I forced the corners of my lips downward at his words, as it might just disappear and I wake up. Nevertheless, I'd failed to hear what it was, exactly, that I was supposed to do. "You pride me with your dedication, your devotion to your family. Yours is a rare loyalty, my pet. Had half of my fellow Decepticons been as allegiant, we would have won the war centuries past. And it is only fair that I place the trust in you which you had placed in me."_

"_What is my first assignment?" I questioned, feeling oddly out of place in his spoken thoughts. I resisted getting up on my toes and rolling back town to my heels, but my fingers curled into fists in discomfort. This was awkward to say the least. He didn't need to praise me._

"_Remember, Sparkling, trust is not a matter won, it is built. On the hardships, the struggles, the best of times, and the hurts shared between yourself and another. That, Cassandra, is your first assignment." I bit down on the inside of my cheek, not fully understanding his jest. I knew the rough outline of what is expected of me, to collect intel. But what did trust have to do with any of it?_

"_Build a trust so powerful that it would compel someone to invite you into their home, and their family." At that, my heart sank to my stomach. I took pride in my achievements. They were great, there was no denying that. But was I that good? Was I capable of wielding a person's heart to my desire, so much so that they would gladly welcome me into their life with open arms? Could I forge such a bond? It was a complicated task and my cards had to be played right, revealed only in times of necessity. This was one challenge I was unsure I was capable of. I wouldn't let difficulty stop me, certainly. On the contrary, it was enticing to me. But there were so many variables beyond my control._

"_Family…?" I muttered to myself, my head finally dropping in inch as I contemplated my options and considered the possibilities._

_He nodded once in confirmation. "Family."_

Two years ago, when Starscream introduced me to my first independent mission, to say I was nervous would be an understatement. I spent hours upon hours in the bathrooms, before mirrors, practicing, reciting, memorizing, creating a _whole new person_ with a life separate from mine. She had to be the perfect girl, with her share of faults and accomplishments, and a bright smile. She had to be innocent, but secretive, keeping a part of her life in the dark to keep them intrigued. I had to learn which cards to place on the table and which words to use for when. For months on end as I was warming my way into this family's heart, I practiced.

I couldn't stop practicing what I would say, what I would do, the way I walked, the way I talked, the kind of dreams and ambitions I would have. I asked myself again and again, what would Brooklyn do and at times, had to wait for minutes ongoing before the answer came. I was hardly able to grasp it in the mist of my mind, always fishing for more, always disappointed with myself for telling the wrong thing or joking about the wrong matter or looking at the wrong things. I would scold myself countless times for my failures and marvel at how easily it came to Alice, who was seemingly more human than I myself.

That was a year before… A year before… I took a deep, shaking breath as I forced my mind to clear. It was nothing.

"No." I stated bluntly to close the subject matter as though it was no longer open for discussion. I shook my head forcefully as I hung it between my locked shoulders. My elbows pressed painfully into my knees as I allowed the entirety of my upper body weight to rest on them, supporting me in the semi upright position. I look more like a question mark, if you ask me, but I had to work the right angle. My feet hung over the pavement as I sat in the back of Ron's minivan, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and pulling at it as I heaved heavily.

"Brook, look if you just let me…" Sam began, but my head shot up at lightning bolt speed, sending a mess of ironed curls in a cloud around me. My hair bounced around my face and shoulders and I forced it out of my field of vision. It blocked out too much.

"_No_." I hissed, more forcefully this time. Then I gave a poor attempt at a hysterical laugh. "No! No, don't you even _think_ about asking me this, you have no right!" Sam pursed his lips, looking around nervously and he made a calming gesture with his hands.

"Keep it down, Brooks." Miki told me sternly. "National security risk."

"I don't _need you_ to _remind me_." I spat venomously at her, narrowing my eyes for a better effect. "Neither of you can ask this of me! What do I look like to you, some sort of safety deposit box?" I paused, glancing up and then, "Wait, no, that was a stupid metaphor. Forget I said that. Point is, no!" I hopped off the edge of the trunk, pacing a few feet in either way. "This… it can't be." Brooklyn denied, shaking her head fiercely. "And you can't ask me this, I won't lie for you!" Both teens shushed me exaggeratedly, pressing index fingers to lips hard.

"Brooklyn, please just listen to me." Miki tried, "Please just… just stay calm and let us explain."

"Explain?" I cut in. "Explain that Sam's had an alien shapeshifter living in his garage for the past two years? Explain that you two are involved in some lunatic conspiracy theorist's dream come true? That you're on government funds for _everything_ you spent money on because Nerd, here, and Hot Stuff save the world from impending doom?" I took a deep breath, trying the steady my heart rate as I shot a wary look back at the garage previously mentioned. Behind that makeshift curtain that was made up from a sheet of pool covering was an Autobot. A real life, honest to Primus _Autobot_, guns and everything! He was right there, behind me… some twenty feet away! And he was having a shooting round not ten minutes ago.

I put my fist to my mouth to bite my knuckles. It wasn't skin that met me, but the black fabric of a wrist brace. My ankle was alright from the fall, just a minor sprain. My wrist, on the other hand… while general undamaged, would need to stay stationary for the next week, lest I hurt it further. Of course I had a nanite shot stashed away at the bottom of my purse, so my wrist could be perfectly fine within five minutes. But a sprained wrist is too petty an injury to waste an entire shot on.

"Look… Sam, the aliens I can understand. I've seen my share of Sci-Fi horror to get acquainted with the idea. Besides... kinda selfish to think that we're the only intellectually advanced species in the universe, if you ask me. But the _Government_? No. No, that's where I draw the line. I don't want to get involved with the government. I won't listen to them, I won't keep some stupid secret of theirs and I won't lie for them. This is your mess and you deal with it however you want. But keep those army brats away from me, Sam." The guy in question shook his head, opening his mouth to say something. I cut him off before he could utter a sound. "I won't cover for whatever crap they've got going on, Sam. Not again." Miki pursed her lips and Sam tried to reason, stumbling over his words.

"It's no, it's… you aren't gonna… don't think of it as, it isn't…" As he struggled to form a coherent thought, I mused quietly to myself, _and Starscream said _I_ have trouble stringing together a complete sentence. This kid's hopeless_.

"I am not going to lie for them! I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and learned the wrong thing, it's ruined my life once, Sam, and I won't let it do that again. I'm not going to cover for the government while they clean up this mess!" I all but shouted, my voice and tone rising simultaneously. Brooklyn was becoming hysterical again I hitched my breath in random places for a better effect.

"Brooklyn, you have to relax, you'll be okay," Miki tried to assure me, her own voice as uncertain of her words as her face.

"No, Miki, I'm not. I am far from being 'okay'. Far from it. I'm miles from 'okay', leagues from being anything that so much as _resembles_ 'okay'!" My hands came up to tangle in my long, curled bangs and I heaved again, an exasperated groan deep in my throat. "I'm… oh my God. I mean… _life_!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up to the sky in vague gesture. "Out there! Shape shifters and stuff and you own one!" I said it more in blame than praise. "How could you own one? How could you let the government drag you into this, its wrong and immoral and just… it's messed up, Sam! It's sick!"

"Shush! Global security!" She reminded me in a hushed shout. "Look, I know that you're upset that we didn't tell you…"

"I'm not upset that you didn't tell me." I corrected her, shoving her hands off me. "I'm glad to hell that you didn't drag me into his any sooner. And I'm not angry, either, I'm disgusted that you let these people pull you into all of these secrets and lies. I'm furious that they thought it to be a good idea to let you two to be in danger like this!"

Miki and Sam looked at me for a long moment, contemplating on my words. I knew I sold the act pretty well, which my distress and freaking out. It was very… close to home, one might say, the secrets and the conspiracies. So I figured might as well put in some of Brooklyn's background into things and stress over the deal with the government. It would hit them in a soft spot.

"This is about your parents." Miki said softly as she realized what I was gunning for. "Isn't it?" In two seconds, my angry face dropped to hollow and emotionless as I stared off, past her into the distance as though remembering a particular unpleasant memory. Sam was from a united family where everyone valued everyone and Miki lost her mother when she was four, to a mugger with a gun. So I made up a back story that would hit them all where it hurt. Except that Brooklyn's life story was a little more complex than that.

When my head snapped to her, I was furious. I took a single stride to her and grabbed her shoulders, shoving her back against the side of the minivan. "Don't you _ever_" I hissed through my teeth, "mention my parents again. You have no right!" For a moment, Miki looked genuinely scared, but I wasn't sure if it were for herself or for Brooklyn and her violent side. I pushed away from her in the struggle to hold back surfacing tears. None of them know the full story, of course. I cried rivers when I tried to tell them about Brooklyn's tragic past. But they did know that Brooklyn lost her family in a horrible turn of events. Miki gave me the most sympathetic, concerned look in history, her eyes round and filled with compassion and pain of loss when I let her go and covered my mouth with my hands. Internally, I smirked at how she felt for making Brooklyn feel bad. I was enjoying this a little too much.

'I'm… sorry." she finally said after a long moment. "I shouldn't have…"

"No." I interrupted, looking at her kindly. "I'm the one who should apologize. I was out of line. I shouldn't have attacked you like that. I'm just… I'm on edge, unnerved and _really_ pissed at the lot of you and them, and everyone because this is all too fucking confusing and I'm _trying_ to figure this all out by myself, but I can't just deal with all of it! I can't go home and pretend none of this happened and pretend that I still don't know for a fact that there are other things out there." I jabbed a finger to the sky. "Because I've seen it and I can't _un-_see and it's just driving me _nuts_!" Brooklyn took two fistfuls of my hair again, inhaling deeply in a failing attempt to calm herself.

"I can't… I'm not going to lie anymore for anyone just because they can't keep their new pets on a tight leash. They ruined my life once and I couldn't do _anything_ but let them for _years_ now. I don't want them to control my life again." Now Brooklyn was becoming hysterical, teardrops oozing from her eyes like small jewels. Starscream would be so proud of me, of my performance, of my wit. How willing these people were to give me their most sincere sympathies and compassion, how eager they were to welcome me into their home with open arms, how warmly they trusted me. All because if Brooklyn. Oh, this girl was a masterpiece of its own.

Sam said that it would all be okay, that I just needed some things settled with a load of papers that say, in many clever ways, that should I speak a word of what I had seen today, I would find myself in jail. And then I was free to go. I shook my head fiercely in denial.

"No… no, I won't be. I can't… I've made a life here!" Brooklyn cried, tears now streaking down her cheeks. "That poor interpretation of Men in Black will tag me like an animal and have someone spying on my every minute of my life until they're sure I won't compromise them in any way, shape or form. I'm nineteen, Sam, not an idiot. I know how this ends!" He opened his mouth to speak but I held up my hand in his face, ducking my head to hide behind it like a curtain. "No, Sam. Just… just go. Leave me alone." If there was anything I knew about manipulating people, it was that they were a lot more open and acceptation of you if you pushed them away. So the only way to be really let into the loop now was to stay away from it with a passion. This was going to be fun.

In the fifteen minutes it took for my minor injuries to be tended to, and Sam to explain everything to me, my adrenaline shot up through the roof and I was still coming off the high. I was energized. I felt like I could do anything but as soon as Sam was called by his parents, I lost my ability to stand. Miki came over to support me, helping me sit down on the curb, still in her white dress. She came just after Sam's pet Autobot crawled back into its garage, stripping off her biking gear to reveal a beautiful white dress. She planned to use it to get Sam to say the 'L' word to her. Sadly, those plans didn't work out quite as she planned.

I waved her off, telling her that I was alright to be left on my own and after assuring her that I wouldn't run, l let her go off to say goodbye to her boyfriend. As I watched them pull away from the curb, a sharp stab of pain erupted in my gut. I gulped. What was I doing? He was my friend, my confidant, my ally. My dorky sidekick, my grip on the human world and whatever is left of my own humanity. He reminded me what it meant to be human and that, sometimes, you didn't need a grand purpose in the universe to be happy. All you needed was a cold beer and a good car and for a minute, life could be simple.

I suppose that's what made me consider him for an honest friend to begin with, how human he actually is, how untainted by the horrible things that life has in store for so many people. He was awkward and stuttered when he was afraid or embarrassed and he babbled on and on to no end when he was nervous. He was a little on the nerdy side, complete with Pokémon cards and Batman posters while he had the hottest girl in town for a girlfriend, his flirting skills were on the floor. He wasn't athletic, didn't like sports all that much, and had owned an infuriatingly small dog that didn't know when to shut up.

And somehow, he was my friend. With all his weirdness and occasional dumbness. He was certainly not someone I'd want the gals back in school to find out about, but I guess that with all of his freak attacks and nonstop word vomit and love for Mario, he was more human than any of them.

And that's what felt like a rusty knife wedged in my stomach. I'd never met anyone more normal, anyone who didn't wear a mask to hide his true face. He was unpleasant to be around at times and made me go red in the face with some of his words and actions, but he was good. And even my moral bar drew the line. Killing him wasn't justice, it was murder. But it had to be done if my family was to survive. I had to sacrifice a good person who might have one day, in another life, been my close friend for the good of those I loved and it was a fair trade. At least I hoped so.

'_He is no fiend of yours, you incompetent fool. He is a friend to Brooklyn, a girl who lost her family, a girl who was a bad liar, a girl how could not do a half decent cartwheel, a girl who is worthless in every way, shape and form. A disposable, pointless girl who only exists for the sole purpose of retrieving information from the enemy.'_

'_That's not true. He's my friend. And until he moves away and goes on with his life, he will keep being my friend.'_

'_Only because you made him. Do you think he would still want you in his life if he knew what you are about to do? Do you think he wouldn't turn you in without a trace of regret? What are you, stupid? How can he be your friend if he does not even know you?'_

'_So he won't find out. He will die knowing that he has a good friend named Brooklyn.'_

'_Are you really so ignorant or just naturally blonde? They will tell him everything that you did before he dies, out of spite. They will tell him all of your secrets and he will die in pain, knowing that you betrayed his trust in you. He will hate you 'till his last breath and you will have to smile and pretend that you get a thrill out of it like some sick, disgusting excuse for a human being. You will put on a good mask and tell yourself that you will forget him in a month's time. But you will not and this memory will haunt you forever.'_

'_Stop talking like it's up to me! I can't control what happens, I just watch.'_

'_Yes, you watch your friends get hurt. What a good friend you are, letting him walk into his own death. Is that why you pushed him away earlier? It was, was it not? You knew you wouldn't see him alive and in one peace again. Deny it if you will, but it's killing you. It is burning you from the inside like an angry furnace, your friend marching to his death and you know that the only way to save yourself is distance yourself from him. You do not want his slaughter to hurt you. You cannot run from this, Cassandra. It will always be here, it will always be looking you in the face and telling you just how much you have lost. It will never let you go.'_

"SHUT UP!" I bellowed in sudden aggravation, slapping my hands over my ears with a force great enough to make the world churn in waves like a Merry-Go-Round.

'_It isn't my damn fault that he shoved that stupid AllSpark into Megatron's chest and killed him! I wasn't there and I didn't tell him to do it. He signed his own death sentence and now it's time to collect. It isn't up to me!'_

'_No, but you can go to him right now and tell him not to go. You can save him. You know how to disappear, you can do it. So why do you not? Why do you not walk to him and deliver a good blow to the back of his head, put him in a car and drive away?'_

'_You know damn well why!'_

'_So he deserves everything coming his way? They will fillet him, cut off everything that sticks out, electrocute, drown, burn, and break him and when he is begging for a swift death, they will leave him on the street to die. Maybe they will even let you watch.'_

"I said SHUT UP!" That one was a head turner and Miki was on me on seconds, shaking me to my senses, asking me if I was okay. I had a good excuse for my unprovoked outburst and when she helped me to my feet, I let her take me to my car an instruct me to follow her. As I walked across that sunbathed pavement, it burned my bare feet. I left my shoes in Sam's room when it was blown to bits. Miki and I had a similar shoes size. I'd take a pair of her shoes when we got to her place. While she kept her father's garage, the government upgraded her living arrangement to an uptown, two story house much like Sam's. And since her father was fresh out of prison and spent most of his time picking up pieces of their broken relationship in the garage and fixing financial inconveniences, she was alone in the house most nights.

They bonded over something they both loved doing and I was happy for her. Plus after Sam had the government scrap Miki's own criminal record, the Witwicky family got a full discount of any car work they needed. It was a pretty good deal. But of course he was unaware of that Miki's boyfriend's car was a hostile alien shapeshifter.

I roughly punched in the coordinates to Miki's place and the car pulled from the curb just as Miki passed me on her bike. I heaved deeply, tightening my grip on the leather of the steering wheel. I was determined to not let any of this affect me, playing Starscream's words in my head over and over again until my heart beat steadied to resting pulse.

"_Build a trust so powerful that it would compel someone to invite you into their home, and their family."_

I did it. I made them want me in, want to help me, feel bad about my undisclosed past. I made them feel for me. I made them support me, care about what I thought and what I said, give me anything I wanted. I made them open their front doors for me, I held their children and fed their dogs and took care of their homes and offices if they had to take a short leave and snooped around their rooms and made myself at home. I made them trust me, but not enough to make them tell me the biggest secret of all: the secret of the Autobots. That was what made me so disappointed in myself. I didn't make them trust me enough. Their homes, their lives, their families, their secrets, yes, that they gave me. But they didn't give me the thing I wanted most, the thing I _needed_ most. They didn't give me a clear pass. I had to be very careful. I had to look over my shoulder ever single moment and remember that we were never truly alone.

I had to keep up a good face and sneak behind their backs to bust up security systems and sabotage files and leak information. I had to be incredibly cautious about my every move, every word, and every thought. All because I couldn't do the one job that I was in charge of. And now I was moping round about a guy I should forget as soon as I get back to my penthouse loft in Los Angeles or my house in Florida. I was feeling not only sorry for him, but knew deep down that I would miss him once he was gone. I didn't feel right about doing any of this and I wasn't going to deny it to myself that it frightened me. I shouldn't be feeling like that. I should be indifferent. I should turn a blind eye to him as soon as he was out of my immediate field of vision.

So… why couldn't I?

I covered my face with my hands and tried to breathe slowly, calmly as my heart sped up again. This wasn't working. I couldn't concentrate on the mission because of some stupid kid with stupid dreams and stupid little flaws that made him more real than any other person I had ever spoken to. All because he didn't have to put on a mask and pretend to be someone else for the public eye. He wore his soul on his sleeves and it was _killing_ me how much I respected that.

Why couldn't he be just another idiot jock football player whose world was limited to the game and a girl's boobs? Why did he have to be so… _intolerable_ and _annoying_?!

"I hate you!" I shouted to the car in frustration, slapping the steering wheel with a greater force. My hand came up in blistering pain from the impact. Why couldn't he be like any other person on the street, selfish and arrogant and always someone else under the goody two shoes mask of the perfect citizen that helped old ladies cross the street? Why couldn't he be someone else, someone less infuriatingly irritating?

"Why did you have to be so… argh, so _innocent_?! I hate you!"

Starscream was right about there being a great danger to this assignment. He was right all along and I didn't understand what could possibly be so dangerous about a stupid nineteen year old kid until now. He was easy to get attached to and if you got too attached to something, it then held power over you: the power to hurt you.

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_**Closing Note**__: So, there you have it. I really like it, and I want you tell me if you did, too._

_Now, being the irresponsible dork that I am, I forgot to replay to reviews last chapter, so I'll do it this chapter, instead:_

Shadestriker27:_ second compliment over my intro… I feel so happy! It gave me a headache, to be honest, but considering the final result, it was all worth it. Thank you!_

Khalthar:_ yes, I like this way better as well. I didn't FEEL the last version, and Cassandra was a too two-dimensional. So I went back and tried to improve. I hope I did._

Galaxypa:_ Thanx :P_

SilverZelenia:_ yes, there are a few fics here and there about this sort of thing, and while it's a rare breed, I was going for originality in my own right. I just didn't realize how bad she had it till my beta pointed it out. Then I realized how true that was, and I loved it. I mean the Decepticons are practically her religion and taking that away will have some tragic outcomes. Shall we see what they are?_

Pikahopp:_ Yes, I thought it was pretty cleaver… it wasn't cleaver… but whatever: it was funny and that's all the counts! Thank you for the compliments and EEEEEEEEEPP! Third compliment about my intro! Thank yyyyoooouuu! I'm sitting here and giggling like a little girl because I'm so proud! Anyway, I hope to hear from you this chapter as well!_

_So what do you say? Good? Bad? Tell me, help me improve. Be the change!_


	5. Unconvinced

_**Opening Note:**__ Hello, my dear readers. I'd like to apologize for going away for like a month or so, so this time I'm back to longer chapters. I tried – I honestly and truly tried – to keep this one shorter. But once the words started flowing, I just couldn't make them stop! I kept on coming up with new ideas, and before I knew it, I was way past my limit. I gotta work on that :(_

_Anyway, I was looking to make this a sort of Part Two to the previous chapter, making it half-chapter/half-filler to further expand of the characters as well as give you all the movie information we all already know, but it came out as being more of a character interaction chapter than anything; mainly between Cassandra and Mikaela. Keep note of what Miki tells her, thought, because it will come in important later on, believe me._

**_Honoraries and important notices_**_: I'd like to personally thank my wonderful beta readers, _Ninnasims3, _and_ Khalthar_; thank you so much, guys!_

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**Things That We Are Not**  
Chapter 5/Unconvinced

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It wasn't until the following morning that Brooklyn had calmed down for long enough to hear Miki out. I sat patiently in her living room, drinking away at my third cup of that bitter grain water and trying not to grimace as she discussed what will happen to me now. Brooklyn couldn't think straight without a cup of hot coffee in the morning, but I snuck in an extra four spoonfuls of sugar when Miki wasn't looking. It was one of those things that I came to hate dearly over the two years: the controversies of likes and dislikes between myself and Brooklyn. Miki had attempted speaking to me last night but I decided to drag it out and play hard-to-get a while longer to sell the hysteria act better. I was proud of my performance and I knew Starscream would be, too. That notion only boosted the pride I was feeling.

I only took a long, deep breath after I had a good night's sleep and allowed Mikaela to start explaining everything in a calm and collected manner… after a rather heated conversation with Alice:

"_We have a problem," I informed in a hushed tone, tightening my grasp on the sink nervously._

"_First you fail at performing the one task I had put to you, and now you insult me. Do not speak to me as though I know nothing; why had I not been informed of this sooner?" the blonde on the other side of the line demanded angrily. "This is more than just a 'problem', pet: this is a complication of immense proportions. Why had you not alerted me to his arrival?" She was all but shouting at me through the phone, scolding my incompetence and I cringed at her harsh but undeniable words. I had been too engrossed in my own progress that I'd failed to do the one thing I was charged with._

"_I myself was not informed in time," I said, trying to excuse myself. It was a vain attempt, doomed to fail but I had to give it a shot. "It was an unforeseen situation; not legally my fault. I'm not the United Stated Government, last time I checked."_

"_Watch your tongue, Cassandra," Alice hissed threateningly. "I am tempted to tear it out as it were." But I didn't even swallow hard at that, knowing that while it may not have been an empty threat thrown to the wind, she would never follow through with it; not if she wanted to keep her skin… so to speak. I changed the subject nevertheless, in discomfort under her scolding attitude._

"_This is nothing but a complication easily dealt with. In fact, can we not use it to our advantage? Lord Megatron will be seeking a private audience with the Autobot scum. Am I wrongfully presuming he will wish to confront the leader? We can spin this to our advantage, can we not? The loss is not ours, Alice…"_

"_I said shut up!" I jumped at her volume, not only startled, but also worried. She was not a pleasant creature to be around, much less when you disappointed her. She was right: I was out of line._

"_All I am saying is that is that I take full responsibility for my incompetence but it is only to our advantage. There was no simpler way to attract the attention of the Autobots and we do not have to await their arrival. They will already…"_

_But once again I was cut off. "If you ever again wrongfully assume that I know less than you, if you so much as dare to think that you came to a conclusion before me, then Cassandra mark my word: it will be an act you will come to regret dearly." At that moment, I couldn't help but compare her to a snake, her voice cooing and sweet and sharp as a razor blade. She was a slimy viper, poisonous and deadly._

"_I wasn't," I told her insistently. "I wasn't assuming anything, believe me, Alice. I only meant to establish the open possibilities. I do understand that this will have to accelerate our plans and you now lose the indirect approach tactics, but I believe that we have a new realm of opportunities before us. Alice, I have been made aware of the Autobots presence this morning. It had been an accident concerning what I believe is another sliver of the Allspark shard."_

_There was a long pause. "An Allspark shard?" Alice spoke, not quite believing her own words._

"_Yes; Samuel had discovered it this morning, I believe, and he had entrusted it to Mikaela. I will sent you a briefing package in minutes," I informed her_

_Before the words can finish leaving my mouth, Alice cut me off. "That would explain his… unnatural behavior earlier tonight," she muttered, to herself rather than me and paused for a long while but I didn't dare question her words. It wasn't my business anyway, what was going on with her mission. That means I heard nothing. "Bring it here," she finally spoke, the order short and decisive._

"_The flaw in that plan is that I am not to leave Mikaela's sight until a NEST unit arrives to collect and debrief me," I said, trying not to sound too obvious and too insulting. "I will be made to sign several contracts regarding my silence; I will be under strict supervision come tomorrow afternoon." According to the bug I had planted into Miki's phone, NEST had some far more pressing matters to take care of before ensuring that a nineteen year old girl didn't rattle off the conspiracy theories of a madman living in a trailer. They were concerned with security, but trusted Miki enough to let her watch over me until they arrived. After the breach on the base, courtesy of my favorite Cybertronian (next to Starscream, that is), they had to run 'maintenance' and proceeded to engage emergency relocation to Beta base in New Jersey._

_I commended them internally, on the speed with which they packed a bag and moved from the middle of the Indian Ocean to America, all the while allowing for not one, but two Autobots (one of which being the commander himself) to take a detour and visit Sam in collage on his first night there. They deserved the abbreviated slow clap and a seat at the table of Packing-And-Moving Incorporated, I thought bitterly, dryly as the matter of the Autobots came to mind._

_Filthy scum._

_If I were to be honest with myself, though, it troubled me a little that Mr. Lennox would disclose an awful lot of very convenient and very confidential information to Miki. I guess, though, that that's what happened when she personally babysat his very young daughter and kept all of the equipment on his wife's farm in perfect condition. Perfect relationship, perfect trust I guessed._

"_That is no issue; your excuse will arrive in two days time. I want you here at the institution two days from now, before midday," she assured me._

"_Very well. Thank you, Alice, but I have found a more pressing matter of discussion. I will send you a briefing package within minutes, but in the aftermath of the incident earlier today, I am now in the official clear. This is more progress than we have made in the past two years. There will no longer be a need to conceal my awareness of them and perhaps I can turn the tables to my favor. If all goes according to plan, which it very likely will, I will have become a sidelines victim caught up in the crossfire. I can work my way into their base and I can fish information right from the heart of operative headquarters. I will allegedly be one of their own. Relay this information to Lord Starscream as soon as you can. There will be many details to be worked out but I think I can get myself within their base of operations."_

"Likely_ and _think_?" Alice questioned skeptically. "You inspire such confidence, pet." I grit my teeth at her sarcasm. I was confidant in that I could do it. it would be hard, but so was Brooklyn and here I was two years later, ready to take my cover to the next level, planning out my own routes, thinking up my own plans, devising my own strategies. I was ready for this, I could feel it. This was what I was raised to do, trained every day to become. This was _mine!_ And no one got to take my things away from me._

"_Inform Starscream of my plans as soon as you can," I simply told her; I refused to let her snarky remarks put me down. I knew what I was capable of and this was definitely on the list. I could do it; I _had_ to do it. I hung up on the phone and looked down from the large bathroom mirror to my hand, the one holding the edge of the white sink like a lifeline. She wasn't going to take this away from me. It was my chance; a chance of a lifetime at least, if not several. It was my chance to prove to Starscream just how much I was worth and get in the good books with my soon to be new Lord, Megatron._

_I wasn't an idiot: a simple human girl like me was an inconvenience and I had no doubts he didn't like inconveniences. It didn't even matter that I would be getting information about the enemy so much as it did that I would be in favor with Megatron. Alice was right in saying my time was nearing its end. My eighteenth birthday was in a mere couple of weeks and then I was done for. There was quite the line of Decepticons who were royally pissed at me and while I knew I was perfectly safe under Starscream's wing all these past seventeen, almost eighteen years, that wing would soon drop and I would be left out in the cold. And if I didn't do something about that, if I didn't get into Lord Megatron's good graces, my life was going to end as soon as I turned the legal voting age._

_I couldn't have that. I was _not_ going to get killed out of spite or out of sadistic fun on my eighteenth birthday. If I wanted to live, I needed a plan; a damn good plan for that, and I needed it yesterday._

I tried to listen as Miki spoke, slowly and with brief pauses to allow for the information to sink in. She told me of how she'd first met the Autobots, how they came here to Earth in search of a key; the key to their planet's survival. She told me about how Sam bought his first car, considering it to be nothing special when it was, in truth, the Autobot designated Bumblebee. Miki said of how several days later she and Sam were attacked by a Decepticon and once Bumblebee had defeated him, they were taken to meet the rest of those arriving.

There was the Autobot leader; the Autobot torture specialist – or Chief Medical Officer, as he calls himself before the human race – by the designation of Ratchet; the weapons expert, Ironhide; an intelligence officer, Jazz; and the scout who later assumed the role of a 'guardian' to Sam, Bumblebee. Those were the first to arrive on Earth, officially. Five months later they got word that a soldier of theirs, designation Sideswipe, was searching for them, and apparently for a very long time, considering he'd been on Earth since nineteen twenty six. In the coming year and a half came six more: a set of triplet sisters, a pair of twins, and another 'medic'.

I nodded my understanding at her and silently cursed them all. Even I wouldn't have the nerve to lie like that. These innocent people, knowing no better and they use them shamelessly for their own gains like herd animals. How could they lie like that to someone? How could they use sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brother and sisters, people loved and missed by their families? The Cybertronian culture was based on the ties of family; it was their very essence and they were nothing without each other. It was family that they treasured above all. So how could the Autobots be so unfeeling as to use those ties to their own good, put the loved ones of innocent people in the line of fire like it was no bother to them?

Family was sacred. There was nothing more important, on any planet, than the bonds of blood and it was a matter to be protected. It was against their core programming, to just stand by and watch as a family came apart and broke, and they most certainly couldn't contribute to doing so. They protected those sorts of unions as best they could; attempted to mend them, even, if possible. So came the order of life, with family on the forefront, then came the duties and responsibilities to their sworn home, and only after was their own honor and respect in the face of their peers. And the Autobots were seeking to destroy all of that with their lies and deceptions. Destroy families and homes, brake bonds and relationships and leave the people with missing pieces of their own selves. How could the Cybertronian race have fallen so low?

It was disgusting at best.

Miki explained what happened once the Allspark was vanquished and how the Autobots sustained minimal damage while Megatron was offlined; Starscream's vocal processors were further – they had yet to be repaired – Barricade was disabled and had to dispatch from the battle in a very short while for his inability to even transform back out of his alternative mode; Blackout was damaged and barely escaped with his life, having to sneak away – he was chased after all the way North to the Canadian border before losing them – and took a good six months to repair; Bonecrusher was offlined by the Autobot leader himself; Brawl was lost and Frenzy went into Hoover dam and never came back out.

And here Miki sat, talking about how much damage the Autobots had sustained. Talk about misinformation. It was cruel and it was low, even for the likes of them.

She paused for a long time, letting the information sink in and take root in my mind and I put up a distant, detached face as I stared down at the coffee table as though it might give me the answers I was looking for. "Do you want more coffee?" Miki asked me after a while, leaning forward to place her hand over both of mine as they lay still in my lap. I looked up slowly, with little emotion, to meet her awaiting eyes.

"Do you have something stronger?" The girl smiled softly and got up, walked to the kitchen, and came back moment later with a glass bottle of refrigerated beer and a bottle opener. I wasn't technically allowed to drink; it was something of a rule. Something about keeping my head clear. But after her story, a beer was what I needed. I felt so sick, so repulsed by what the Autobot scum were doing to these people; these innocent, unsuspecting people. Even the Decepticons, with all their hate and revulsion towards the human race, were not as cruel and as unfeeling as they.

I popped the bottle open and took a good swig, downing several generous gulps before coming up for air. The substance was bitter on my tongue, bringing up a shiver through my bones that I ignored as I drank. I've always hated beer, the bitterness and tastelessness of it making my dizzy. But right now something to force me out of focus was good. I welcomed it, even, despite the criticality of the situation.

"Thanks," I said, looking back down at the glass absently. Miki sighed softly and I heard her moving, pacing back and forth slowly behind me.

"How are you holding up?"

"Crappy," I told her, taking another drink. I almost recoiled from the taste. "I'm just trying to keep from freaking out again. I mean it isn't like I'm going to process all of this in one day. Still figuring out how to wrap my head around everything and then there is all that crap I'm gonna have to deal with when the MIB agency shows up to give me the brief overview of what happens if I spill the beans to anyone. It's… a headache," I sighed, too, and closed my eyes lightly.

Miki came to sit next to me, placing her hand on both of mine as they were intertwined at the fingers. I pressed my forehead down to them, taking a deep, soothing breath. I felt her other hand run down my spine gently in attempt to reassure me.

"Can I confide in you with something?" she asked me softly, her whispered words so low that she might as well have been trying to keep from awakening a baby. "I haven't told it to anyone because I'm not too proud of my actions. Can you keep a secret?"

I looked up at her, straightening my back a slightly to level my eyes with hers more, and nodded just barely. Then I turned away, back down to my knees where my elbows were lay rest.

"Yeah," I said, more to myself than her, "Yeah, of course you can; you know that." She vented air deeply and waited a moment before speaking.

"When I first made contact with the Autobots, I found myself right in the heat of battle in Mission. It wasn't a full twenty four hours after my first meeting with Bumblebee and the Decepticon, Barricade, at the construction site and I was on the edge, basically just running on adrenaline. I actually think I got a little high that day." Miki gave a light laugh and I joined her with a choked chuckle. "Anyway, there was this Decepticon there; the first Decepticon to attack us. He initiated the battle by blasting a shot at us. Bumblebee and Ironhide tried to shield us and lessen the blow he fired right into our group by putting a truck in the way like a shield. It worked, but Bumblebee was injured badly. He lost his legs.

"He couldn't move anywhere but he was in the way. He was a liability and an easy target so I knew that he had to be taken away. He'd either get injured more, or get someone else hurt. So I found a tow-truck and hotwired it so I could hook Bee up to it and take him out of the immediate battle zone. After that, I turned around strategically and came back, driving in reverse so that he could have a clear shot at the Decepticon who had Lennox and his soldiers cornered and pinned. It was like a team, he and I, with me the driver and him the shooter. We took the Decepticon down together; a sort of codependence and after that, he took to training me in strategic and evasive driving, and got me into sharp shooting.

"That's the story that everyone knows. I was the hero that came back around and took down the bad guy. I was the girl who teamed up with an Injured Autobot to take down a Decepticon more than twice Bee's size. And forget the details, because the rough outline of what happened sounds a lot cooler." I laughed at them a little, looking up to her face and she gave me a kind smile.

"See but there is a story behind the story. What really happened that day was that the shot blasted me some ten yards back and almost caused me a broken wrist. I got a badly sprained ankle that I did my best to cover up and several bruised ribs and let me tell you, it was no tea party. I could barely breathe but I didn't want to be more of a liability than I already was, what with me being a civilian with no training. I was in the way, I was unprepared, and I was scared. I was never so scared in my life. I didn't know if I would make it back home alive, didn't know if I would ever see my dad again… I didn't know if I would survive – if any of us would. I thought I was going to die and I didn't want to. There was still so much I wanted to do; I wanted to travel, see the world, I wanted to make a living as a top class mechanic and engineer and for a horrible moment, I thought that none of that was going to happen because I was going to die.

"But my dad always taught me that being scared on a job meant being sloppy, and being sloppy meant being caught. So when I saw that Bee was injured, I'm not proud to admit that I was happy. I saw my way out of the situation. I could escape everything and wait it out in some quiet back ally where no one would hurt me. I saw that I could be safe and I could make it look like an act of cunning and bravery. So I stole an abandoned car, hooked Bee up to the chains, and drove out of the battlefield. I drove away and left everyone behind to fight for their lives because I wasn't a fighter. I was a bystander who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't want to risk my life for them, didn't want to give up everything I could have had just to look tough. I could look brave and still be safe and sound, tucked away someplace far away from the fight. I ran away. I ran away to hide because I was so scared of doing the right thing and fighting. The way I figured, why should I risk my life for someone who did nothing but ruin what was left of it?

"I didn't have a responsibility or obligation to do anything, so I didn't. I just… hid." When I straightened up completely to look at her, she head was turned away. She'd let down her hair without my noticing and hung it over the side like a curtain to hide behind. I touched her shoulder gently but she only pulled away father, turning her head farther away from my seeing. I didn't need to see her face to know what kind of look it bore: shame. She was so ashamed of herself that she couldn't bring herself to look me in the eye while telling the tale. I pressed my lips into a tight line as I waited for her to continue. She didn't.

"And…?" I finally asked when I got tired of waiting. This was no important information but it was an interesting story. It was a smart tactic, too, making herself look courageous all the while getting away from the heat of battle to keep herself safe. It didn't make her a coward, as she thought, but a survivor. She knew how to stay alive, and doing so all the while looking like a hero is a task not easily managed; I should know.

"And… that was it. I ran away to save myself and I hid away with Bee in an ally, waiting to the fight to end. Or at least that's what I wanted. You don't even know how much I wanted it; to just stay there and be safe from everything. I wanted to close my eyes and open then back home, in my bed because everything was just a horrible, twisted nightmare but when I did and put my head on the wheel… I looked back up and everything was still there and I knew it was no dream, and what I was doing was wrong. Those people I left back there were going to die without support, and Ironhide and Ratchet were already busy guarding Sam and the Allspark. Bee was their last hope; he was their last chance to get back home to their families and there I was, stilling tucked away somewhere, crying because I was never more scared in my life.

"But then I looked back at Bee, and the way he was looking back at me… I thought he was reading my mind or something. He knew I was terrified and he knew I wanted to curl up and disappear and make everything alright, and he also knew that I was slowly realizing that it was never going to happen. Everything would stay and when it was over, I would be left with nothing but questions and regrets. It was like a silent agreement between the two of us then… he promised he would keep me safe and make sure I got home to my family after everything was over and I promised him that I would keep a brave face. We agreed that we were both scared to shit but we would both do the right thing. He was hurt, I was a seventeen year old gossip girl, and together we were a helpless mess. Afterwards, months later, Ironhide told me something, and every time I think about it, I think of that one moment, when Bee and I looked each other in the eyes and made the right choice: courage is when you're scared to slag, but you load your guns up anyway. So he and I, we went back and helped put that Decepticon down. We were made out to be heroes and that little moment of weakness stayed a secret between the two of us."

She was silent for a very, _very_ long time. So long, in fact, that eventually I looked up at the clock to see that she hadn't moved, much less spoken in a good twelve minutes. I knew exactly what she was trying to do with this story, so I sighed deeply and preceded to hug her. Miki jolted in surprise, stiffening awkwardly for a long moment. She didn't return the hug, nor did she turn to look at me. She just sat and let me comfort her.

"He was right, though," I told her softly. "You were scared but that's normal. I mean I would have just run screaming, with my arms up in the air like a maniac. What you did… that wasn't out of fear, it was out of courage. You knew what it meant to do the right thing and knew that it might cost you your life, but you went anyway and that's not cowardice anymore, Miki. You were strong in the end. Isn't that what counts? The ends justify the means, right? What matters is that you went back and you fought a battle you never should have been involved in." I paused for a while, before, "That's… I just wish I could be like that, just grabbing it by the reigns and saying '_screw it; I'm doing this my way_'. I wish I could be strong like that."

"But you _are_," she assured me, finally turning to look at me. Her makeup hadn't run, courtesy of waterproof mascara and eyeliner, but her eyes were watery anyway. That, unfortunately, she couldn't hide.

"_No_, I'm _not_," I pushed insistently. "I just run from hiding place to hiding place like a headless cockroach, bumping into shit all the time and falling over on my ass. I'm scared, Miki; I'm scared every single day of my life!" I exclaimed, squeezing tears into my eyes as I thought of a traumatic moment of my life. Thinking of something terrible helped with faking a crying session. I hitched my voice on the last syllable for more effect, too. "I wake up and the first thing I think about is whether or not I triple locked the front door the night before because I'm so damn afraid. And you… you're like superman with boobs instead of balls. It's why I really hate you sometimes, because you just grab a challenge by the horns and you make it look so damn easy when it _isn't_. I mean look at you!" I got up sharply, startling Miki a little in the process.

"You think it was easy for me to go back in there?" Miki demanded sharply.

"No I don't and that's the point! You make everything look like a piece of cake when I can't even remember what happened… what happened to… I can't even…" And that was when I began weeping all over again. I sunk down to the leather cushions of her five thousand dollar couch set and buried my face in my hands, wincing a little at the sharp stab of pain in my left wrist. "And you're my friend and I trust you and I _still_ can't… I always think… I just keep thinking, _what if they hear?_ every time I open my mouth. I… I can't even…" I mumbled incoherently into my palms.

I pretended not to notice when Miki wrapped one arm around me to comfort me, running her hand up and down my back soothingly. "Brooklyn, it's alright. Come on, you're okay." A few minutes passed and she let me calm myself down a little before asking, "What happened? I promise I won't tell anybody if you don't want me to. Just trust me, okay? Tell me what happened," she coaxed lightly.

"No… no, I… I can't… I won't… Miki, I…" I stuttered aimlessly, shaking my head forcefully. "I don't… I can't… It's not like… oh God, I don't know!" I wailed fearfully, hysterically. "I don't know, there was… I… I couldn't breathe," I gasped through my sobbing. "I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see… I just… and I was so _scared_. I was so scared, Miki! I couldn't breathe; I could see anything or anybody… I just… I couldn't… there was smoke everywhere and I was choking and… I can't! I can't; what if they'll hear? What if you tell them? They can't find out; I'm not hiding anymore!" I cried out, ripping myself from her arms and storming off.

I made a lot of noise as I ran away from her, up the stairs into the guest bedroom she had me stay at for the coming few days, and slammed the door enthusiastically. I leaned against it and slid down the wood, continuing my crying act a while longer but her story was stashed away in the back of my mind, hanging on a light, feather thread, a ghostly whisper in a dark, lonesome corner of my mind. It was like a dream, the outline visible, but the details unreachable and every time I tried to remember it, every time I tried catching it, it slipped away from me like a wild butterfly.

I couldn't help but feel a strong sense of déjà vu, almost as if I'd heard the tale before, and many times. It felt almost as if it was a memory of my own rather than hers, one that was wiped from my mind and left for me to dream of on my worse nights. It felt like it belonged to me. It hung in my mind so familiar, so personal that I had to retrace my steps to make sure the whole story wasn't just a vivid imagining, a powerful conjuration of my own sub consciousness.

It wasn't until two hours later that I went down the hallway to the bathroom to retouch my makeup, putting on a little more than before to add an artificial impression of a glow to add to my tight, fake smile. I looked plastic; I looked like a pretty, made up Barbie doll, with all of my nice clothes and expensive cars and top of the line make up and glittery nails. I was so fake; both of us were. It was so… tiring to always put up this show, to always careful about what I said. It wasn't that I wasn't up for the challenge; I was, but I got tired, physically, and mentally tired of always thinking about the things I said and did. Being fake was hard, exhausting work and I was ready for a much deserved break from it all.

The fault in that plan was that in that very moment, I felt my confidential phone – Arthur's present that wouldn't hit shelves for another decade at least – beeped softly. I took it from my make up purse and tapped the screen with two fingers before swiping upward to bring up a holographic video chat program. It came to life featuring none other than Starscream. I was glad I had made myself presentable in time, considering how awkward and unheard my explanation would have been. Starscream would have scolded me severely if he saw me in tears, despite their falseness.

"Has Alice alerted you to my plans?" I questioned before he could get a word out, anxious and excited all at once at his call. I had so much to tell him, so many plans to discuss. I had spent my two hours of free time putting together and taking apart different scenarios which I could use. I was confident he would approve.

"She has, yes. You have three minutes to assure me that you are ready to take this step. If I am unconvinced, you will forget the subject matter until I bring it up, if ever again. Speak."

"This isn't working. Us on the outside, predicting their moves… we aren't getting very far, and the hits we plant only turn out successful with no losses less than fifty percent of the time. We don't have the proper intel, nor do we have enough of it and I cannot get more information without taking a look within, which I am afraid I cannot accomplish. The risks are too high and the revenue is ceasing to justify the resources put into my mission; I am not ready to put it to rest," I insisted harshly. This was my job, my responsibility; it was my baby for the past two years and I was not going to give it up, nor was I going to be of no use to my future Lord. "We cannot continue like this, guessing at their shots, going in half blind… it is not bringing in the desirable results. But if I was on the inside, I could tell you what they were planning before they would do it."

"It would be dangerous."

"No risk, no reward. Is that not what you taught me? The ends justify the means and I am ready to move my project to the next step."

"You do not have to proper training for this branch of operation." I clenched my teeth in frustration. Why couldn't he see that I could do this? I was trained my whole life for this; this was what I was meant to do. It was my place and my time to shine and I wouldn't let someone's doubts – even Starscream himself – put me on the bench while someone else took the spotlight. And most of all, this was my ticket to life. I had to be useful, and if I could be useful all the while fishing information from the heart of the lion's den, it only made the mission that much more a reward than an assignment. Chances kept popping up into my face like mushrooms after a summer rain and I wasn't an idiot.

"You lack S.E.R.E. training. You are incapable of keeping the situation under control should you be discovered. I will not risk our operation for your own selfish gain. You waste my time, pet." I resisted a sharp intake of breath, feeling as though I had been physically struck in the face with brass knuckles. Again, I mean. S.E.R.E.: survival, evasion, resistance, and escape. It was mandatory for deep cover work behind enemy lines; it taught us what to do if we are ever trapped or under cover in hostile stronghold. He was right, I never partook in that specific branch of training, but I had other skills – skills that were plenty enough, considering my extended deep cover.

"I do not need S.E.R.E. training; I have my unique set of skills that I am sure will be enough to maintain cover for an extended period of time, until further notice. I have not compromised us in the past two years, and I will not start now, Starscream. I know what I am doing, I assure you, Sir. I am ready for the next step. It is vital for us, and with this new opportunity, we can coordinate missions better. I can leak the right information with much more ease; I know what I am doing."

"No, you do not. You are incompetent, you are unskilled in this field, and should I put you behind enemy lines, you will also become a liability to our plans. It will not matter that the Autobots will be left without a leader to follow. One will be selected quickly and security will increase. You will be discovered and you will be tortured for answers. I have been made familiar with their methods of interrogation first hand and you will break. They will not only execute you, but you will have comprised everything to them by the time they do so. I will not put our entire faction at risk because your inability to follow my direct orders and take a _no_ for an answer. Your three minutes are up and if you have convinced me of anything, it was that you know less than I have previously assumed. You are selfish, you are ignorant of the fact, you are far too ambitious for your miniscule skills, and you are incapable; I would relieve you of your current mission this second if it had not been for my need of immediate information. Do not question me on this matter again or you will come to deeply regret it. I do not have to explain myself to the likes of you, pet; you are not one to ask for promotions and I shall hand them to you as _I_ see fit. Am I understood?"

"Yes, my Lord," I said quietly, keeping a poker face until the video chat screen flipped off. I calmly turned off my phone, calmly turned to the door, then proceeded to calmly turn back around at lightning bolt speed and hurl the glass sheet at the opposite wall of the generously large bathroom. The bulletproof glass didn't shatter as it collided with the ceramic, nor did it get scratched as it bounced back and fell into the double sized, in ground bathtub. I felt like I was backhanded across the face by a professional, top class wrestler and my head almost snapped to the side at the phantom slap. My breath quickly became thick in my throat and I couldn't swallow. But even with a razor blade stuck half way down my throat, I refused to let my eyes water.

Sometimes I really wanted to hate him. And right now, I wanted to hate him so badly that I took my public phone from my purse and whipped it at the wall as well, with all the force I could muster. The iPhone shattered as it hit the wall and dropped to join it's far more advanced counterpart in mangled shards. Incapable, my ass. I was more than capable of it and he _knew it_! He _knew_ I was more qualified for the job than anybody else and it was a damn good plan, one he was a bloody idiot to pass up just like that! I knew I could do it and I knew that if he just gave me a single chance, I could make him proud. I could save so many on our side and bring so much hurt on the Autobot scum that throwing away this opportunity is just a dick move if nothing else. It was stupid, it was rash, and it was egoistic. And just because he was too proud to admit that I came up with a good plan didn't mean that he had to just rub it in how useless I was to them! It wasn't like I didn't already know what a waste of space they all thought me to be, nor did I overestimate my capabilities. I knew where my limits were and I had to push against them if I were ever to get better.

This was what he was preparing me for all my life, so why would he just turn it down like that? It wasn't fair that I tried so hard to be good and he turned a blind optic to me every time I made a suggestion. I wasn't incapable. It was true that I was offering this job, in part, out of selfish reasons – they were valid and they were reasonable, but selfish nevertheless – but I was _not_ incapable! I was perfectly capable to take care of myself in a situation, perfectly capable of handling my way around a tale, and should it so happen that I got discovered, I would never betray Starscream and the trust he had placed in me. He told me so much about their plans, explained things that I shouldn't have gotten a whiff of and I would never put that in jeopardy. I was strong enough to do this, why couldn't Starscream see? I could do it! I knew what I had to do, I knew what I _could_ do, and I'd be slagged if I became some… some _weak link_ to someone who didn't give me five minutes to get to know my potential before executing me.

I wasn't a dependent weakling who couldn't manage in a dangerous situation and I wasn't an _inconvenience_ to anybody, not if I could help it. I was strong enough for this. I could do this, I knew it.

I was strong, damn it!

I whipped around to face the wall and kicked it with all the strength I had, and then proceeded to cursing as the sharp toe of my high heel bent upward and pinched my toes painfully. It would bruise. But I did prefer this to punching a mirror. It didn't work out well last time and I very much liked having all five fingers on each hand.

'_You stupid hairless ape; of course he told you that you are not ready. You bloody idiot, you, for thinking he would think any higher of you. You are just a little girl in a world too big for her. You know nothing of working an insider job. You have no preparation, no extraction plans, no backup; you didn't even take the time to make a proper plan! How the bloody hell do you expect to go in on such a short notice without at least a God forsaken plan of action? You know nothing, little girl. He was right: you are useless. You are just a nuisance to him and everybody else. You jump in head first without knowing what you are getting yourself into, and later you will wonder where you had gone wrong when you and your family get compromised, hunted down, and executed! You are a bloody moron is what you are, not some solder.'_

I listened as I got a scolding, and then cleaned up the mess I made, touched up my makeup again, and put on a bright smile. I felt like I was putting on a show for the cameras again. This was my stage, my spotlight, and my time to shine. I will do my job and nothing more. I will take any rewards put to me if I so deserve and keep my mouth shut from here on out. It was a stupid decision, I told myself as I left the bathroom with a tight smile plastered onto my face, just artificial enough for Miki to see that I was trying and failing to be strong. Let her think that her little tale was chipping at the dams Brooklyn had put up around herself. Let Miki think she found the chink in the armor. It was time to break down, after all, and there was no better time to start.

Miki didn't say anything as I joined her for lunch, but instead brought up a supportive smile and asked, "You didn't call anyone, did you? You know I can't let you…"

"I didn't," I assured her. "Although my phone did contact your bathroom wall, as you might've heard. Sorry about that, by the way. And there is a hole in your wall you'll wanna fix when this mess is over." Her mouth dropped and shock quickly turned into barely controlled anger. I cringed guiltily as I squeaked out a shallow, "Sorry…" The woman took a deep breath and counted down from ten with closed eyes before she could look at me again.

"Look, Brooklyn… I am supporting you here and everything, but if you take your sorrows or frustration or anger or any other emotion out on my property, you'll be sleeping in the garage tonight. And let me tell you, you won't like it," she threatened sharply.

"What?" I pleaded guiltily, "I said I was sorry." She took a breath and counted again, and turned away from me lest she lashed out in anger. I did apologize, didn't I? What's the big deal; she'd been on government funding for everything, anyway. They can fix it for her just as they could Sam's house.

The day went by quickly, with Miki spending most of that time waiting for Sam to call her. After the rather unfortunate circumstances of last night, he ditched Miki on her first online date. He hadn't called all day. Nor did he call the next day and by departure day, I was running on Miki's clothes, food, and other domestic utilities after my own ran out.

The two days flew by almost unnoticed. Since Miki wasn't going to college until next year because she had to get her dad back up on his feet after he served his time, we were at her home until three, and then went to her dad's garage. On the second day, we were switched, going to the garage in the morning and scheduled for home after four thirty. We never made it home, though, because my excuse arrived as promised. During that time, Alice called again with confirmation from a drone that had been sent for recon, that it was, indeed, an active Allspark sliver. He tailed us to the house, and then came with us to the garage. Alice also made sure to remark on what a terrible job I did at paying attention to whether or not I was followed. I cringed at her scolding, and cringed again at that she was perfectly right before hanging up.

Sam called Miki at eight in the morning. I was sitting up on a cleared tool table and sipping away at the coffee Miki bought me on the way there. I wouldn't have cared for their lover's spat if it weren't for the fact that Sam wasn speaking loud enough for me to hear half way across the garage. I made out that he was freaking out, but that one was a no brainer, and that he was freaking out about, apparently, becoming a schizophrenic. He was… _seeing things_ that weren't supposed to be there, from what I could hear. I swung my legs casually as I pretended not to listen but dropped the act once Miki stiffened, became concerned, and got up to her feet in worry. When she informed Sam that the Allspark sliver was safe with her at all times, being in the garage safe at the moment, she also added, after a brief pause, that she wasn't going to touch it.

It was at that point that I officially lost all my clues as to what was going on between the two. I never pretended to know what the hell was going on in their relationship, seeing as they seemed to have some sort of secret language that nobody understood, complete with incomplete sentences, 'that thing at that place', and several made up code names for things I couldn't decipher. This, however, was confusing on a different set of scales. The whole conversation was being recorded and I would listen to it later, but my curiosity was like a red hot iron wedged in my chest, burning up.

That's when I got my call. Miki discovered the drone hiding out in her garage just as he was trying to crack the safe and snatch the sliver. She attacked like a wild banshee, screaming at it as she lunged. She had him pinned to a tool table by the neck by a pair of iron grabbers in five seconds flat, leaving me screaming at her to kill it. Not the menacing '_kill it slowly, painfully; make him suffer physically, mentally, and spiritually all the while enjoying his endless screaming_' type of kill it, but rather squeamish '_ewe, gross! Kill it, kill it!_'

After having torched one of his optics out, she asked him again what he was doing here and in his panic, he reveled that he was sent to retrieve the shard. Just enough useless information that she already knew, to keep her interested and merciful. She let him live, shoving him into a metal toolbox; I kicked it for good measure, choking out a weak "Shut up, you gross little thing!" that was meek and dwarfed next to Miki's deadly head on charge with a little torture on the side. That girl was _violent_.

"We can take my car," I said, fishing my purse from the tool table where I left my coffee. Miki paused in her hustling just as she hung up on Sam after telling him she was on her way. If I were to be in college by noon, there was only one way. This was going to get a little challenging to explain. If I kept the explanation to a vague minimum, though, in just the right way then maybe I wouldn't need to speak many words at all. All depends on which words I chose to use.

She looked up at me and stated bluntly, "You're not going."

"Yes I am," I said. "I thought you were ordered to not let me out of your sight? Listen, you don't have time to argue with me on this. Sam is my friend, too. And when they mess with him, they mess with me." I knew he was going to die, and I knew I couldn't say anything. I couldn't _do_ anything but let it happen. But he didn't have to die alone. The most I could do for him, even considering what he did, was be there with him in his final hours. He was guilty of so many things, did the unforgivable, really, by destroying Megatron and the Allspark. He had to pay and so he would, but now that he discovered a remaining sliver of the Allspark, things might have changed. I battled with myself until nightfall on the first day, and the lesser part of me, the one too prone to questioning Starscream in everything he told me as of late – the disgusting, ungrateful, insulting, traitorous part of me – was right in one thing: I didn't want to see his demise.

I knew him too well and I didn't know if I could put on a good face to his tortures. I would not speak up, nor would I try to bring his suffering to an abrupt end. I would be next in line if I did so; best case scenario is I would lose all trust and rights and privileges and my place, my lifetime of work would be for naught as I would be locked up and tortured for my treachery.

The word was bitter to taste as I thought it. I've tried not to think about it in the past days but ever since the conversation I had with Starscream back in my car, it was a silver thread, light as a soft sigh as it sat in a dark corner of my mind; not quite there, but never leaving. I couldn't sleep last night at all, getting some forty or so minutes of rest as I tried to abolish it from my thoughts. Physically speaking, I could do it. Get Sam and Miki away, I mean. I could do it if I tried. But like a double edge sword, action and lack thereof were both as immoral as its counterpart. One immoral as Sam in many ways Sam deserved what was coming to him and the other because, in some ways, he was perfectly innocent. _We were not made to be cruel_, Starscream taught me; _we were made to survive_. And we each had the right for vengeance. This was Megatron's vengeance and it was his chance to finish the Autobots leader once and for all. Sam was his best chance at finishing the Autobot Lord.

The only one I have ever owed anything to was Starscream, and I owed him anything and everything I had, including my life. And that was exactly what I was willing to give should he say that word but leaving Sam all alone to his death seemed… wrong, somehow. Sure leaving right now would save me having to watch, because I didn't know how many nights it would take for me to get the sounds out of my head and I wasn't ready to hear them again – the screaming and pleading, the cries for help even though they knew nobody was coming… I've heard despair before, heard the loss of hope through a closed door, but those words weren't my preference. I preferred to call it death; it was the sound of death. I've heard the pain and the suffering, and I heard the sound of giving up.

I vowed to myself that I would never put myself in a situation where I would hear it again, and actually care. And I knew I would care with Sam, and I didn't know how long it would take me this time, to shut it away behind yet another door; didn't know how long I could keep that door closed as the sounds pounded against it with a vengeance, trying to get out and get to me; didn't know if all the other voices wouldn't break through in that moment of weakness. There were so many voices, so many locked doors, and so many cells in the titanium prison that Starscream taught me to build. I constructed it from the ground up, locking everything away. But the iron bars on the window were weathered and weakened by these two people who welcomed me into their lives so warmly.

Sometimes I found that I couldn't lock it away. On a bad night, I would try so hard to lock it all back behind bars but it kept breaking out, leering like a hungry animal just beyond the stone walls of the prison. On a bad night, I couldn't make myself stop caring.

It didn't take long to convince Miki that I was going whether she liked it or not, and within a minute, we were out in the parking space where I left my car this morning.

I had to go. I had to be there, if only for a moment, to let Sam know that he isn't alone and that there are people who care; he had to know that Brooklyn was a good friend to him, and that she would always come back for her friends. Humanity was a person's greatest weakness. No matter how hard you tried to keep it out, it got to you. Sometimes I let it.

This was one of those times. Aside from that I had to come along regardless, to personally deliver the sliver, I also had a sick twist in the pit of my stomach, telling me that I would regret it for a very long time if I left. He didn't deserve to die alone; nobody did.

* * *

_**Closing Note:**__ So… more emotional trauma. I feel both awesome and terrible at the same time. Awesome because Cassandra has a very interesting and controversial point of view to write from, and it's so hard for me, but I love it. And terrible because it hurts me to see someone have such a low amount of self worth._

_But be honest: did I write this all well? I know I'm very, VERY far from a professional, so I always feel like there is more, because writing is like drama – you can always do more no matter how good you are – but I want to know that you all think in regards to this specific point of view and the emotions it conveys. Am I conveying any emotion at all, or does Cassandra just sound like an obedient drone with no sense of self and identity? Because right now, as you can see, there are many controversies in her life, popping up and slapping her in the face more and more frequently and these moment of doubt are _so important_ to the story, that I have to know I'm portraying them well and clear._

_Also, you will do well to remember Miki's story, because it's very important._

_What do you think about the chapter? What do you think about Cassandra? How do you feel about the interaction between her and Miki and why do you think she reacted the way she did? What do you say about her conversations with Alice and Starscream? Was everyone in character? Let me know in the review section below!_

_PS.: I have visuals on my profile, for any of you who wonder what Cassandra looks like._

_Much love,_

_AJ  
_


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